Time To Love Together
by ameliapemerson
Summary: Hello. Modern MM AU. How do two stubborn people fall back into love? So many thanks to Apollo 888 for help and to luvgoround. Please Please keep giving me great comment and helpful critiques. Ch 10: where Matthew gets impetuous and Mary gets some surprising news.
1. Chapter 1: Divorce proceedings

_Hello. I'm starting on a very different project here. One I'm not fully sure in my own mind where it's going to take me. I wanted to play around with the idea of breaking Mary and Matthew up (without any other party involved in that break up) and see if *and how*they find their way back to each other. _

XX

Matthew sat legs apart, feet flat on the ground in the uncomfortable chair at the long conference table. His hands and fingers alternated between strumming on the table in a rhythmical motion and gripping his left hand in a fist and tapping it softly against his lips.

He did not want to be here.

He did not want this to happen.

But it was not his decision to make.

She wanted it done. Neat and clean.

Across the expanse of the table Mary signed the document in front of her in a quick, decisive motion.

Mary sought to make her own decisions. This was the start.

She stood and shook the hand of her solicitor. She smiled fleetingly.

Her grip was firm. Her eyes directly ahead.

They did not look at each other.

Hers did not stray across the table to meet the ice cool blue eyes of the man she knew would not meet her own.

His eyes, once as clear as an azure sky, now were hooded. Darkened into a mask of indifference.

Their looks had always meant everything. There was no need for words.

Except when everything falls apart.

Now, there was nothing left to say.

Both kept their eyes straight ahead.

The solicitor slid the paperwork across to Matthew.

He gazed stonily at the written words. He swallowed. He already knew what the words said.

He had written plenty of documents just like it. The dispassionate jargon of his profession intended to remove any sensation from the legal transaction being settled. To obfuscate, indeed, to numb, the parties into a confused silence. A deliberate distance placed between the words on the page and the individuals signing. So that the people signing the documents, themselves no longer even a name, but a legal entity, could distance their individual selves from a painful reality.

A legal language masking the fact that the simple action of gripping a pen and moving the thing with ones fingers across a line next to a marked x, would, for the second time in little more than a year, change his life forever.

The document granted Mary an uncontested divorce.

A divorce she wanted and he had agreed to. Giving up on a marriage she now believed … she, and hence they,... had entered into when they were far too young.

Her father had convinced her that after Patrick's death, after the utter failure of her first year away from home at college, that the marital arrangement with the new heir was the best thing for her future.

The divorce was for her an end to being controlled by others. A life bound by duty, stifled by a suffocating love.

Matthew did not want to keep her in such a life. In such a marriage.

He blamed himself for forcing her into it too soon. Robert had wanted it done. Matthew, in love with Mary from the first moment he set eyes on her, agreed.

Six months after he came to live in Downton Village they married. Her parents had wanted it. She had just turned 21. They had created a marriage settlement giving Mary a generous trust fund from her inheritance.

Matthew wanted no such arrangement. His work as a City lawyer would handle his own private expenses. At 24 he was just beginning his career in a prestigious London law group. He would travel back and forth as necessary.

Eight months later it was all over. Another set of legal documents were compiled. An agreement reached through mediation.

He agreed to all of Mary's terms. Mary would still have her trust fund in the divorce. He would still help run the estate alongside Robert.

He would set her free.

It was what she wanted.

His hand gripped the pen. Such an ordinary pen, he thought idly, looking at the markings on the side indicating the law firm's name. He clicked it methodically as he worked his way through the sheets of the documents.

An ordinary pen that he would use to sign a series of pages. Pages that would break the foundation of a life he thought they had had a chance to create together. A false life he now understood. Fissures he should have seen coming. Cracks he did see if he wasn't lying to himself.

The denouement of their marriage came ironically during a night neither would ever forget. Their fragile love, their needy desire, their physical hunger had erupted in an ardent, emotionally brutal coupling, in which both tried to break the other.

The endeavor had left them sexually satiated but emotionally shattered.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Matthew settled into silence. A deadly weapon, silence, when used effectively. And Matthew, a mind trained to use words effectively to manipulate, now knew, to his eternal shame, that he could wield silence as well.

He had shut down. The last few weeks they barely communicated. Never looked at each other.

Mary became scathing in her conversation. Attempting to fight his silence with a devastating, caustic wit.

Silence and sarcasm became their weapons. Their protective masks against the truth.

Displacing the raw, needy passion that left them naked and exhausted on top of the mussed sheets as each had sought to find the center of the other's emotional breaking point.

Mary, frustrated beyond measure with his silence, had finally communicated the one set of words she thought would break his silence.

Their marriage was not working. They should end it and allow each to get on with their lives.

At first he stared at her. He then curtly nodded.

Mary took his nod as approval. As confirmation that he understood they were no good for each other.

That they had given up on their chance at happiness.

Matthew knew it to be true.

He took the pen in his fingers. Gripped it tightly. Looked down at the document one more time. And signed his full name in a legible and meticulous fashion. Not the hurried hacked signature he placed regularly on court papers, illegible as a real name. This was done to give him the full knowledge of what he was doing.

It was done.

Matthew shoved the documents across the table, pulled his chair noisily back from the table, and left the room. The door slammed upon his exit. He could not stay in the room a moment longer. His movement betraying his fragile state. If he was to survive emotionally whole, he had to leave. One look at Mary and he would beg her to change her mind.

So he left.

Mary, once Matthew left the room, sunk into the chair and slowly let out the breath of air she had been holding in.

It was done. She had her life back. She was still young and had the chance to make something of it independent of her family and their stifling, traditional existence. She was done conforming to the fitness of things.

The cost, however, was to accept Matthew's absence from that life.

That night they knew instinctively each held the other's soul. They would be incomplete without the other.

Such a revelation scared Mary to her core being. She had thought herself immune to such romantic notions. She had laughed when previous beaus spoke of eternal love. She was still young enough to believe such things impossible.

So when Matthew, gripping her naked body in his arms, dared speak the words of love in raw and possessive tones, she retreated away from it. Away from what she told herself was a stifling existence, bound to a man who presumed to own her body and soul.

She wanted to talk to him about it; how she was scared by such impassioned language.

Instead, in her inexperience, she made fun of him. She used his words as weapons against him. Against the truth of her own feelings. And he retreated into silence.

And so they found themselves in this office, signing these documents.

She believed she was doing the right thing.

Yet as Matthew slammed the door behind him, she could not be sure that she had not just ruined everything.


	2. Chapter 2: Mary in her New Life

XX

_Six Years Later_

Mary sat at the foot of the oblong table. She straightened the stack of brochures into a neat pile. Her eyes looked down the table at Anna Smith who gave her a slight nod to go ahead. The projector and power point slide presentation was ready.

Her hair, in a new bob cut across her face and she pushed a stray strand back behind her ear. Mary stood up, took a deep breath and began a well-honed speech polished and rearranged for individual presentations.

"Hello. I'm here on behalf of the Connie Cranford Foundation for Cancer Research to encourage DataGenetics Federation to come on board as a sponsor and partner in our effort to fight for a cure in ovarian and breast cancer…"

The presentation moved along quickly in her modulated English voice. She learned to use her accent to best effect making it sound both sincere and intellectually engaging.

Indeed Mary loved her job. She had worked hard to get a position at the CC as everyone nicknamed the foundation where her diplomatic skills honed as the daughter of an English aristocrat and the educational acumen acquired in social work philosophy combined to make her an effective and persuasive spokesperson and vice president in charge of donor relations.

At times her self-doubt made her wonder if she had been hired at the Foundation in the first place because of the potential to exploit her family connections. But in her almost two years on the job Mary had accustomed herself to be diplomatic whenever the subject arose and deflected any attempt to abuse her title or her father's name.

If it was a problem it came when she dealt with colleagues. She knew they talked behind her back. Mimicked her accent. Told jokes about how she had insinuated herself into the Foundation by flirting shamelessly with the founder and major donor of the Foundation, Ryan Cranford whose wife the name of the organization bore. If truth be told, it was quite the other way around. He pursued Mary from the first when she came to the job as an intern. She did not ask for his attentions. But she felt unable to deny them as he helped guide her into the ways of donor relations. She admired him for sure. She felt safe with him. He would not make too many demands on her heart.

Her steely resolve to prove herself made her a strict, flinty boss who did not mind criticizing those who fell under her authority. It was the only way she dealt with things now. Determined that nothing would affect her. Nothing would get to her soul. For their dwelt thoughts and feelings she rarely allowed herself to visit.

While a social work major at Stanford University she was taken under the close tutelage by her advisor, a wonderful woman she looked on as a friend as well as a mentor, Elsie Hughes. The older woman had guided her both into a major and a life where her past was not a hindrance but a strength that took her to places she had never imagined back at Downton.

When Mary was feeling most confident in her new life, she was amazed she had put up with the stifling and conformist existence back at Downton for so long. She would say her father's need for traditions meant she was to be in a kind of cage all her life; limiting her to social functions and marrying the man sitting next to her at dinner.

Why she rebelled in the first place and tried to break free by attending the London School of Economics for a year. A disastrous year it turned out to be. One the demoralized her and made her return in a kind of shame to Downton. She now believed that was why she had agreed to marry the new heir so soon after meeting him. What was the use. What was the point? She might as well conform.

She had set this idea in her head for so long it was now ingrained. The marriage was a mistake. Matthew had caved into the pressure as well. Almost against her will she felt an attraction to him. He was beneath her in class and station. But his education was impeccable and in his voice and ability he projected a maturity that belied his years. She envied his education but would never say it. It made them unequal in some ways although she used her wit and sarcasm honed in years of dealing with her sisters and suitors to more than meet his challenge.

Perhaps he did not realize but in going along he had exacerbated her own sense of inferiority. They never communicated why each had agreed to the marriage. Never really talked at all about what led them both to that altar.

Well now that part of her life was over. She had moved on. Matthew barely communicated with her except over family business. It was all to the good, Mary told herself.

When she came to the conclusion of the presentation, Mary gathered up her notes and after passing around the pamphlets collected the remainder. She gave the rest over to the assistant from the federation to hand out to those unable to attend the meeting.

Anna walked over. "That went quite well."

"We'll see if it brings them on board." Mary said. "Sometimes I can tell how a presentation is going. Get the feel for the room, so to speak. But this group just sat there like a lump of old men." And she gave a rueful smile. "Ryan will need to be updated. I have my doubts we won them over."

The two women moved outside. Mary was grateful her friend helped out. Her regular assistant was home sick and at the last minutes she poked her head into Anna's office to beg some help. Anna was in charge of the newsletter and social media at the Foundation and sometimes helped out with presentations.

Mary and Anna met at Stanford. Both in the social work degree program, the two women hit it off as friends almost immediately.

Mary felt such gratitude towards her. She had found it difficult to fit in among the various cliques on a college campus. To her surprise, at 21 she found herself just a bit older than her college contemporaries. The fact of her divorce also made her something of an outsider. Her icy nature only fueled rumors that she had been the cause of the divorce. How could any man put up with her?

She was decidedly different that the average college student. For one thing all costs were paid for out of the trust fund set up both before her marriage and continued after her divorce. She had a well-appointed apartment in a fashionable suburb of Palo Alto that she furnished to her taste, a combination of modern and classic. Here too she rebelled deliberately choosing the very opposite of the stuffy old Victorian age décor of Downton that her mother insisted brought in the tourists if nothing else.

Mary could be sharp tonguef and inattentive in her friendships. Used to being the center of attention at home where she was the moth around which her social group circled, she found it difficult to make friends.

But Anna had stuck with her. Anna sensed Mary's unspoken loneliness more than most. Mary had a shadow Anna would say, a shade, a past that haunted her. A past that, whether she knew it or not, encased her in a shell of aloofness. A past she did not want to deal with but haunted her just the same. One that made her difficult. Made her brittle. Made her untrusting of friends who she would say in a sarcastic tone designed to put them off, would only want her connection, would ask her for money, would want to use her title for their benefit.

The men were the same. She rarely dated. When she did find herself in a relationship it was inevitably unsatisfactory. She chose men who were not interested in a long term relationship. Careless men who wanted only a lovely woman on their arm or a bed mate who asked little of them the next morning. Only Ryan Cranford pursued her. His charm lay in his ability to make her feel safe with him. She thought she knew where she stood with him. They shared a love of their jobs, of the dedication to work in the honor of his wife, but one that made few demands on her soul. That had been taken by another.

Only Anna could she confide in. And only in the most fleeting of moments. After a long night studying for finals, nearing graduation as each had earned a post graduate internship at the Connie Cranford Foundation, did Mary talk about her life back home.

She was careful to speak of her family in a loving manner. And she did love them. Dearly. But she told herself as she told Anna that it was a life she no longer wanted. A life that held nothing for her. Anna knew that was wrong. That Mary was fooling herself. She said she did not need love. That love hurt too much.

The two women returned to Mary's office.

"Wait her for me." Mary said, flinging her purse and small set of keys on the work table. "I'm just going to check my voice mail then we can get a bite to eat."  
Mary pulled the phone from her carrycase. She had forgotten to check it after the meeting and it had several work related messages.

Then a familiar honey toned voice came on that startled her. Matthew always chose to email her rather than talk over the phone when he had some family estate business she needed to attend to.

She inhaled sharply at the intimate and yet distant inflection he managed to maintain throughout the message.

"Mary." He started in hesitating over her name as if saying it brought both pleasure and pain.

After a long pause where all she heard was his short breaths, he continued, "I … I don't know how to tell you this except to say that you must come home immediately. Robert's had a stroke and his doctors are unsure of his prognosis."

She could hear Matthew swallow as he choked over his next words. "I think it's serious. You need to come. I'll telephone later with more details but please," his voice becoming raspy from the emotional toll the call was taking on him,"your father wants to see you. Please come home."

He clicked off.

Mary sat, stunned and confused. Her father? How could this be? He was so strong, so full of life the last time she visited. Timed to miss Matthew who had gone back to London and his law practice.

Coming out of her reverie, she called out to her temp office assistant to please book her on the next flight out of San Francisco with as few holdovers as possible.

She must get home. Home to see her father. And confront her past.


	3. Chapter 3: Matthew at Downton

_Picking up with the phone call to Mary and some reminiscing of their past._

XX

Matthew sat, legs crossed and foot tapping, in the wing backed chair. His fingers entwined the base of the Glencairn whisky glass he favored and he slowly swirled the vestiges of the dark gold liquid pooled at the bottom. His shuttered eyes reflected back the flames from the roaring fire place that Mrs. Patmore had set before she left for the night.

It was after midnight. What was he waiting for?

The doctor had left Robert's sickbed an hour ago.

One of the downstairs rooms had been hastily rearranged into a bed chamber after the man was struck down that afternoon by a crippling headache and could not make it up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Cora.

Matthew removed himself from the room shortly thereafter leaving Cora lightly sleeping in the chair next to the bed.

He tried to make no sound but Cora looked up as he closed the door. He reopened it slightly.

"You're going to call Mary, right?" She asked quietly, looking up into Matthew's eyes that glinted slightly in the shaft of light.

He leaned his head against the door. "Yes." He replied his voice ashen and weighted down. He could barely say the word.

And here he sat. An hour later, having poured a drink to take up some time.

And the mobile remained in his pocket. He felt its heaviness. The obvious metaphor came to his mind. As heavy as his heart.

But should he take it out? To call her. To hear her voice, perhaps. Only to give her the worst possible of news.

This was not how he anticipated initiating contact again. He had not heard her voice in such a long time.

A voice he thought strikingly individual to Mary. Both melodic and razor sharp. Both seductive and emasculating.

That dual quality had captured him from the first words he heard escape her lips.

Words, he now remembered with a hint of a smile, were very much less than favorable.

"Oh him." She said sounding caustically dismissive to everyone else in the room.

He turned to face her as he entered the library. He heard the dismissive tones. But he also took in the cleverness behind them.

They stared at one another. "I do hope I don't disappoint too much." He said, amusement in his voice as he put out his hand.

He put out his hand to shake hers. She looked bemused.

Why had he done that? Shaking his head now at the awkwardness he had felt then. She was just so beautiful. Had put him off his game immediately.

He actually put his hand out to shake. So middle class she must have thought.

A smile formed on her lips even that with a touch..of sardonic glee at the sides of her mouth.

She accepted his hand. But as their fingers touched, flesh to flesh, an electricity pulsed through their bodies in unison.

Neither had expected that.

They both looked up and into each other's eyes, luxurious coal black to steely blue.

She did not let go immediately. The smile turned softer, even evasively seductive for just a moment. And then it was gone.

"We'll just have to see. Won't we?" Her eye brow angled and her fingers twitched in his own. He reluctantly released her supple fingers from his grasp.

He found her entrancing. And, more exciting, an equal to the necessity of taking the world on your own terms.

How had it all fallen apart?

They had spent their entire marriage acting as if it was a verbal game between the two of them.

That way they never had to speak of anything serious. Like love.

Usually they spoke only around the subject of love, in banter or sarcastic rejoinders that each seemed to enjoy. To dance around the subject rather than tackle it head on.

He had spoken only once of the love he held for her. The night they had made the most passionate love of their short marriage.

Even that night they had stayed playful, taunting, until he said

"_I love you so much, Mary. I'm not sure I could go on breathing without you."_

She had said nothing in response.

His thick tongued, hastily spoken words must have seemed stifling, suffocating to her for she recoiled from his arms. They had barely spoken since the morning after except to inflict pain.

He retreated into a kind of petulance. A self-satisfied, hurt feeling that fed itself.

He allowed it to fall apart. Into silence and bitterness. Her sarcasm about their 'joke of a marriage' washing over him. His passive refusal to join in.

Until she gave up and suggested a divorce.

Shrugging off the feeling of melancholy that was not doing him any good, Matthew finally took the mobile out of his front pocket and clicked the numbers.

He had waited too long to call her. And now he had to tell her that she was needed at home. Her father was ill and most likely dying.

It was the last words he had ever hoped to tell Mary upon first hearing her voice again.

XX

Matthew put the phone down quickly. He had gotten her voice mail.

Damn. He'd try again in an hour or so. It was not like he was going to get any sleep. He went and poured himself another whisky.

Matthew's life had taken on a kind of rhythm in the six years since the divorce. Robert and he had made the Downton estate even more successful than ever. The Earl listened to Matthew's advice, garnered from his City contacts in London, on investments that both secured a good foundation for the present and (even with the paltry interest rates) as good a start into future as was possible.

His law practice brought him a certain amount of power within the corporate community of City bankers and investment firms.

By necessity he maintained the lease on the flat he took in London after joining the Middle Temple Chambers at 2 Equity Court. The very place where he had applied for membership and received his legal training as a junior to the magisterial Charles Carson who, upon Matthew's being called to the bar, had put in a good word in the ear of the head of chambers not to let the floppy blonde hair fool him into thinking that young man was incapable of making good law.

His barrister skills rarely were used in court, although he had effectively represented several corporate clients in closed sessions when privacy and delicacy were most needed. There were some rumblings of him taking silk, but even at 30 that was still a few years away.

Matthew was not at all sure this was what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. It certainly made good money. And it attracted powerful friends. But it was to him, hollow and purposeless. He had meant to be much more the social activist, taking on more free cases and working in the community. But it never really happened.

Again something he never pursued. So much of his life he had let slip by. Not really living it but simply existing in it.

The same with his love life, such as it was. A few dalliances early on, braggadocio type things to prove to himself he was still attractive to the opposite sex.

Pathetic he now realized. They ended up in one night stands or in relationships he simply ended by never calling the woman back.

Even those had been a few years ago. Nothing really. He had concentrated all his time on work, on the estate, on making money.

Matthew picked up the mobile again. Dialed Mary's number again.

This time he heard her, tentative and as nervous as he, respond.

"Hello, Matthew." Softly the words crept into his heart. "I got your earlier message." Her voice, sad, breaking over the words.

"I've booked my flight and am packing now." Edge had crept in. Trying to be neutral, but he knew her too well.

"He's resting comfortably in a room we set up down the hall from the library." He swallowed, not sure how much to tell her, how much she could take.

"This stroke has been severe. He's paralyzed all along his left side." Coughing, "I … I just want you to be prepared." His voice had become thick, slightly inaudible.

"I understand." She said, simply. Sitting on her bed, she grasped the phone until the tips of her fingers turned red to keep from crying.

"He's asked to see you. He wants you home." He said the word, not sure she even thought of Downton as home.

He plunged on without fear, "We're… we're all looking forward to seeing you."

Waited for her response. Begging in his brain, "please please don't shut me out."

"I'll be seeing you… " She stopped herself and started again, "… I'll be seeing all of you soon. My flight leaves in a few hours." The words, so formal yet released from her mouth, unbidden with more emotion than she expected.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Dad." Her voice cracking on the last word. The tears beginning to flow, she imagined that would not stop until she saw her father's face.

"I'm very glad to talk with you again. Even in such circumstances." He was probably making a fool of himself. "We're doing our best here. Cora's holding up like the true matriarch. She keeps us all in line

"Have a safe flight." Not knowing what else to say. But wanting to keep the conversation going a few more minutes.

"Yes. See you soon." And Mary clicked off.

Mary and Matthew, across an ocean from each other, mirrored each other's motion and simply stared at the phone unsure and disbelieving that after six years of not speaking to each other a simple conversation could be at the same time that hard and yet that healing.

Matthew stayed the rest of the night in Robert's room relieving Cora and ordering her to sleep as best she could. They would know more in the morning. And besides, he said, "Mary's coming home." And he gave the first wisp of a smile he had since the ischemic episode with Robert occurred.

XX  
_The sadness will continue, I'm afraid, but also I hope the healing._


	4. Chapter 4: Together and Apart

_She lay facing down on the duvet covered bed. Her arm outstretched, reaching to take his. Her head cocked to the side as she drank in his eyes filled with dark pools of need and desire. He unconsciously licked his lips in anticipation. His hands moving to lightly caressing her skin. Fingertips brushing, barely touching. Stroking the nodules of her spine as he moved down her back. Slipping the zipper down and pushing her chemise aside. White, alabaster skin revealed. Breathe intake. Tingling goose flesh. Moving hands down sides of her body. Cupping breasts from behind as her back lifts up to meet his greedy fingers. Slipping back to the rounded cheeks of her posterior. Massaging. His lips brush against her flesh. Small, quick kisses all along her back. Taking her in. Slowly absorbing the pleasurable sensation of her naked flesh as his head dips down and his tongue lightly flicks and moves along her shoulder blades. Deliberately denying himself immediate carnal pleasure as he anticipates the night to come. _

Matthew woke with a start. His skin was flushed. His eyes shifted restlessly. He was shaking. He felt an uncomfortable arousal and he crossed his legs to cover it up as he groggily took in his surroundings.

Robert's bedroom. He wiped his chin and mouth with the side of his hand. Glancing at his watch, it was a little after 8 am. The nurses would be coming in to attend Robert shortly.

He had fallen asleep in the chair as he sat in vigil. Anticipating Mary's arrival. Waiting to see his ex-wife for the first time in six years. Only to have to familiarize her with the doctors and nurses attending her dying father. Sighing heavily, he placed his head in his hands, pushed his fingers deep into his cheeks, and slumped in the chair.

Matthew knew the dream well. Recurrent. Persistent. Becoming as real to him as anything he experienced with the women he had taken to his bed. Why they were so unsatisfactory, he had concluded long ago. Why he felt such a sense of betrayal to the woman in the dream as he made love to someone else. Someone who was not her. Not the girl in the dream. Not Mary.

Matthew had told no one of his fantasy. It was something he kept deep within himself. An indulgence late at night he allowed himself. Something he refused to acknowledge in the light of day.

Therefore in the hours before daylight, unbidden, the dream came, he assumed as a result of the stressful events of the past days. Robert's deteriorating condition, the doctor's visits, and the anxiety of calling Mary had triggered his mind. Tricking it and betraying his emotions. His fatigue consumed him.

But it was nothing, he told himself, to Cora's. He could do nothing to relieve her pain. He felt helpless. Taking a few days off work. Sitting with Robert while she rested was the best he could offer.

Matthew furtively glanced again at his watch. Mary's flight was due at any moment. Sybil had left hours ago to pick her up at the airport in London and drive her back to Downton. Edith was on her way from Edinburgh. Cora was to fetch Violet later that morning.

Matthew's anxiety level spiked again. Crawley family dynamics was tense at the best of times. This would test all their patience.

Cora walked into the room from the door behind Matthew's chair. He did not hear her. Cora's voice was warm and intimate as she spoke gently, so as not to startle Matthew. She had grown to love and admire him as the heir to her husband's title even as she tried to keep neutral in his relationship with her daughter. He clearly loved Mary. Cora knew that. But his stubborn pride kept him from revealing it and doing anything about it. He had let her go, he told Cora one night when the divorce was still fresh and the sting still hurt. It was for the best. Cora got much the same response from Mary the few times she had visited California. She would just shake her head.

Cora's mind this morning, however, was on the doctor's most recent request.

"Matthew." She said, putting an arm on his shoulder. "Last night, did Dr. Clarkson pressure you to talk me into having Robert transferred to hospital?" She had overheard some of the nurses discussing just that subject as she walked past them in the corridor.

Matthew grimaced. "Yes." Nodding, "but I told him you knew Robert would like to remain at home where he was in comfortable surroundings."

"Good." She said, looking at her husband in the bed and absent mindedly patting her hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Thank you."

She glanced back at Matthew and took in his haggard appearance.

"Why don't you go get a shower? And get some sun. You're looking very pale." Cora looked Matthew in the face. Hers reflected his as they had both been inside since the attack occurred.

"Oddly enough, the sun is shining and it's a lovely day. Take a walk to clear your mind."  
She said trying to sound light, "and do stop looking at your watch every five minutes. Mary's not coming any quicker…."

Robert at that moment began to cough violently. His hacking breaths came in ragged muffled sounds. The right side of his body quivered with cold as the covers pulled down as he could no longer control his limbs and his arm sprang out and jerked. Cora walked over and pushed the blankets back over her sleeping husband.

The stroke's paralysis had resulted in the incapacity to swallow liquid or food. And without the ability to swallow or intake food, and without inserting a feeding tube to delay the inevitable, Robert would most likely die within a few days. One saving grace of his stroke was still having the faculty of speech. And even if it was slurred, Robert in no uncertain terms and maintaining his cognitive faculties had told the doctors absolutely not. No extensive measures to be taken. He would rather die with dignity.

Cora had agreed, as deeply as she loved Robert, she knew this was the right decision.

So they took to sitting in vigil in the makeshift bedroom. Sybil had joined them briefly, driving in from her studies at the Fashion Institute of London. But just as quickly she left to pick Mary up, preferring to do something rather than sit and wait.

Matthew briefly considered getting Mary himself, but in the end he had let Sybil go. So now he waited for their return.

"I think I will." He finally said to Cora, getting up from the chair.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Matthew walked outside. He blinked rapidly in the hazy early sunlight. His pale eyes watered and he pushed his fingers in to wipe the tears away.

Downton, renovated in the mid-20th century with central heat, was still old and drafty and constantly remained chilly even on the hottest of days. Outside though, the early summer heat penetrated Matthew's skin. It felt surprisingly pleasant and he stretched out his arms and rolled his sleeves up. He looked up into the clear blue sky trying to remember the last time he had been out of the house.

Closing the side French doors leading out to the Monk's garden, he strode down the few moss covered brick steps, across the open space and arrived at the shooting range he and Robert had designed and set up four years earlier.

Pulling up his shirtsleeves once again in the heat, there was sweat already glistening on his forehead. He shook out his tense muscles, unbuttoned his shirt halfway down, and rubbed his chest before taking the Browning Hi-Power out of the locked box and onto the bench. The bench provided a comfortable and stable platform.. It was a steady anchor point and aided his accuracy.

Matthew found it surprisingly satisfying to take out his stress by feeling the weight of the pistol in his hand and rapidly pulling the trigger. Stretching his taut muscles out to take aim at the target. The steadiness it required. The silencing of thoughts in his head. The discipline of the weapon and the mind working as one. It was quite addictive.

He closed his eyes tight and shook his head. He had just remembered the last time he had been to the range. A few days before Robert had taken ill; the two men had spent the evening getting in some target practice with rifles. Robert had been in fine humour and the two had joked about how much more proficient they had become over the years.

The cool steel and the weapon's weight felt good in his fingertips. He gripped the handle with both hands. Steadying himself. Placing his legs apart. His eyes directly at the target. The weapon's fire was startling in how it shook his body. He could feel the reverberation rumbling and jerking his body's weight back. He tried to keep himself steady as he aimed for the bull eye's target.

Emptying the chamber, Matthew moved to retrieve another clip when he noticed a shadow moving behind him.

He turned and saw Mary walking towards the sheltered range putting up her hand to cover her eyes so she could see him better in the bright sun.

Matthew pulled out his ear plug protectors. Sheltered from the sun he could see Mary clearly. He swallowed hard as he gazed at her. The tight fitted cropped pants, hugging her slim figure, the open necked shirt and sandals suited her.

She had cut her hair.

These things he took in at first glance. Just to be in her presence calmed him beyond anything he expected.

She was here.

He took a step closer. Hesitated.

Agape, he continued to stare as she too walked a step closer. He was not sure this was the time or place but his eyes raked over her body like a man starved. He tensed as she approached him. Still saying nothing; nothing coming into his mind. He had never stopped loving her. They both knew that. But his love had stifled her. And he still did not know what to say.

She had not come for him, he reminded himself. This was not their time.

Mary broke the moment. "I didn't want to disturb you." She said, "You're concentrating quite hard."

"I had to find something to do.' He said pursing his lips. "Cora told me to get out of the house." He tried to grin but he could not complete the gesture.

The conversation, a first in six years, had started well.

"Didn't know you took up shooting. Wasn't it the last thing you liked to do?" Mary said, recalling the time she had walked with Matthew on the Downton grounds. Robert had insisted Matthew accompany him and some neighbors on a shoot, to get him used to country sports.

Other memories tugged at the corners of her mind.

Robert had tried to teach Mary to shoot. She believed he did that in order for her to act as a son. The son he never had. A son he always wanted. A son he had replaced her with when Matthew came to live in the village.

The memory pained Mary. But she had managed to talk many things out with her father in the visits she took to Downton in the years since the divorce. Without Matthew present, Mary found it easier to address some of the perceived slights. Robert, rueful about his past behavior, had listened attentively.

"You are my dearest daughter and I love you." He had said, "and I want nothing more than the best for you. If… if I failed in any way…" he stumbled. "It was because I didn't understand what you wanted. I am sorry. I know now. "He took Mary in his arms. "and… and I'm very proud of your accomplishments."

As she stood in front of her ex-husband, Mary collected her thoughts again.

She was glad she had reconnected with her father. It was a comfort.

She took in the man before her. Matthew. Could she do the same with him? So much had happened between them. She was a different person now.

He was also different. The slimmed down, stylish, and mature man she before her was not the same as the open faced, boyish Matthew she first met seven years previous.

He had a guarded look about him. Had she created that look?

They both had spent their marriage with safeguards, masks and even, if she thought about it, barbed wire distancing themselves from each other.

It was all so complicated between them. So much left unsaid. Too much ….

But this was not the time for that. Later, she thought. Now she had to see her father.

She had meant to go straight into the house after she left Sybil at the car after being dropped off at the front of Downton. She had heard the shots and got curious as who would be firing weapons on the grounds at such a time.

Only to find that it was Matthew. She walked around the side of the garden, following the sounds, to come across him at the stone and brick range.

His blonde hair shone in the sunlight. His forearms bare and his biceps tense and flexed as he fired the weapon. His tall, long-legged figure concentrated on the target as his feet splayed out and planted on the ground. His jeans clung to his body and his shirttails hung loose from where he had pulled them out to give him better range of motion.

She was not prepared at all for that. She was glad he did not hear her sharp intake of breath.

The memory of that day hunting out on the Abbey grounds had lingered with them both. They were always at their best when sparring with each other. And that day had provided Mary with a considerable amount of ammunition. "No pun intended." Matthew had mused.

Matthew had felt pleased she had chosen to walk with him. She had told him that in the old days the lords of the manor would have had a loader at the ready so that when the birds took flight, the hunters would simply hold out their hand, and a gun would be placed in it and they merely had to take aim and fire.

Matthew said that would have simply given everybody more witnesses to see him miss.

That day, it was only Matthew's complete inability to load the double gun that got him out of killing some innocent bird.

They both shared that memory as they nervously stood mere feet from each other after six years.

Matthew placed his pistol back down on the bench and approached Mary. He gave her a gentle hug. His hands loosely gripped her shoulders and he placed his cheek ever so lightly against hers. He drank in her scent. She felt his scratchy beard as it tingled her skin.

They parted.

"I wasn't very good at it." Matthew said softly also remembering.

"You were very faithful to lie about my incompetence." Matthew's grin finally made it across his face.

"So what's changed?" Mary asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

They began to walk towards the house.

"Robert insisted I keep trying… After…" He paused. He did not want to bring up the topic of their separation so early in her return.

He changed tack. "I eventually compromised with him. I told him I never wanted to hunt but I was not opposed to learning how to shoot. So we set up this range."

"And he was right, "Matthew concluded as they approached the side door from the garden, "I learned to enjoy the sense of controlled concentration one needed to fire accurately."

If Mary was surprised, she decided not to show it. Matthew stopped her short of entering the garden room.

"I'm so glad you're here." He said pitching his voice low, barely above a whisper. She felt his breath brush against her ear.

"… I missed you." The words tumbling out of his mouth before he had time to think about them Breathless, his face took on a pained expression as he wanted to bite his tongue til it bled to take back the words. He knew it was not the time. It sounded selfish; callous when all her concentration was on her father's condition.

Mary looked askance. Taken completely aback at his words.

"Did he think it was to be that easy?" She thought. That she would run into his arms? That her life was not her own?

His eyes shuttered and closed.

"You never asked me to return." Her words said softly but like a knife with an edge honed to prick and bleed.

The ease of the earlier conversation dissipated.

He hung his head at the rebuke. He knew she was right. Even if it smarted. He knew she was right. He had no right to say that.

They walked silently into the house.

XX


	5. Chapter 5: Reflections and Actions

_I know from reading the reviews that the last chapters have been difficult reads. Matthew and Mary are going through some emotional angst for sure. And they are not always thinking rationally. Love seldom is rational. So lashing out at each other, making unfair accusations while hurtful can also be seen as clues that their relationship is still at the top most of their minds. If they had truly given up, then neither would care so much. So they have to get through some tough times. But Trust Me… I love happy MM. I love flirty MM. I love them trying to work out their difficulties. _

XX

Mary was beyond tired. Sitting next to her father's bed, holding his hand as he murmured in his sleep she had never experienced such crushing exhaustion. Mental and physical. The long flight. The worry. The anticipation. The tears.

She did not know what she was saying. What she was doing. Just going on instinct. And that, she discovered at home… at Downton…. meant she was reverting back to the sullen, angry young woman who had left six years previous. A person she did not particularly want to remember. Or like.

A person she had yet to come to grips with.

It had started as soon as she heard Matthew's voice. His words about her father.

Mary had rushed home and begun to pack. When his second call came, she was better prepared to hear the worst.

Even still her emotions were topsy turvy.

The child in her calling out to race home and be there with her sisters and mother. She remembered summer days that seemed endless when she was seven, walking with Robert along the grounds of their home. Their time together. Father and eldest daughter. No one else. No other sisters allowed. He told her stories of Crawley history and picked her up and carried her when she tired.

The teen wanting to rebel against his authority yet needing his approval. This was what caused her to try the London School of Economics when she knew it was not the right fit for her. She had failed out. Robert said nothing when she returned home but she felt his disappointment.

The wife of the heir resenting her father's undue influence over her decision making. Pushing her towards a marriage that would secure her future. Her resentment building already then. "You know my character." She had said to him on one of their last walks together. "I would never marry a man I was told to."

And the young woman, older and bit wiser, realizing her father was a human as anybody with his own foibles and weaknesses. A woman who had reached out him and resolved their difficulties.

Mary was eternally grateful that they needed no more words between them to heal their relationship.

Except for Robert's desire that she also heal her bond with Matthew.

Why did everyone assume she wanted to?

On the long flight from California her mind wandered and lulled her into memories she normally kept suppressed.

She remembered Anna asking one night, after they had finished off a bottle of wine and their tongues loosened, "How did Matthew propose?" Anna had wondered. "If you two barely knew each other, why so soon?"

Anna sat up against the back of the sofa. Mary got very quiet. Anna, Mary knew, was the practical one. The one who needed reasons for everything. Could only comprehend the world after she puzzled out its mysteries.

A keen observer, Anna would know if Mary blew off the question.

So she took a deep breath. "It was at a garden party held at Downton. A bunch of neighbors. Some friends I had hung out with at school and had not seen since my return from London."

She rolled her eyes. "I wanted to appear like I didn't care that I had failed. I had all the same men around me that circled me as a teen. I knew how to play them and I did." She smirked. "And there was Matthew… as usual standing aloof from the crowd. "

"I didn't understand him. He was so quiet. So observant…" Mary shook her head. "So unlike all the other men I knew…"

"You liked that he didn't fall under your spell?" Anna asked. "Or you were mad that you couldn't get him to do what you wanted?"

"Oh God. What a question." Mary smiled. "I was intrigued by his lack of interest. So I kept looking back at him until he noticed. We spent the entire afternoon pretending we weren't looking at each other when we were. We flirted outrageously and no one even noticed. " That got her to smile.

She again stopped. "We kept exchanging these furtive glances, ugh… you know…"

"Eye sex?" Anna suggested, playfully helpful.

"Probably. Though I would never admit to it. I liked it. But I'd never let him know."

"My father finally walked over and directly asked that I go and talk to Matthew. He kept pushing us together which I hated. Which usually meant I'd do the opposite so he actually walked over with me to where Matthew was standing alone. I had no choice…."

"_Why do you stand all alone?"_

"_I find I like to keep my own company." He paused "and you already have plenty of admirers."_

_I remember shrugging my shoulders in resignation. "It's my life Matthew…I play the game because it's expected of me."_

"Maybe you deserve better."

"And you think you can change it?"

"_I doubt it. You think me such a dull boy."_

"_Compared to some I've met maybe you'll shine by comparison." I tried to tease._

_He smirked and cocked his eyebrow at me. "Maybe I will."_

"_But you never join in."_

"_To play your games, you mean?" He said, "No thank you. I don't play the fool well." But his voice, although light in tone, had a seriousness that Mary caught. "And I don't want to be just another of your playthings."_

"_How will I ever get to know who you are, then?" I asked. _

_He licked his lips "I guess you'll just have to marry me and find out." _

Mary turned to Anna. "Was that a challenge? I thought."

Anna lifted her head. "Seems to me you were both playing your own private game. Neither of you wanting to back down."

"Well I certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was surprised by what he said."

"But you said yes." Anna pointed out.

"I said, 'Why not.' It made everyone happy. My mother planned the wedding. My father got rid of a problem. Matthew had done his duty and found a wife."

"So you see, it was a joke from the start. He did it as a dare. I took him up on it. And we played it like that for six or eight months til it was clear we were miserable." She shrugged.

"There has to be more to it than that." Anna looked at Mary directly. She ventured "was there love?"

"There was a physical attraction I admit." She gave a hint of a wry smile.

Mary hesitated. "We barely knew each other." She took a sip of wine from her glass.

Turning to Anna, finally trying to come to grips with the mix of emotions she misjudged at the time, she said,

"I felt as if I could have drowned in his love."

"Love is a kind of madness. Like an illness when you've got it there's just nothing else. It's a shame to waste it." Anna said in reply. "You must have felt the same, or else you wouldn't still be fighting yourself over it."

"If that was so, it was a long time ago. I was a different person." Mary had said curtly, putting an end to the discussion. Anna knew better than to push it and let it go.

But it was true.

And sitting next to her father, Mary knew she had to confront a lot of truths she had swept aside in her attempt to forge a new life.

She liked to think that through the carnage left by the divorce she found her freedom.

But even that had limitation for the money from the marriage's trust fund kept her in a well-appointed apartment while fellow students scraped and scrimped and worked two or three jobs.

At her worst she believed herself a fraud. Playacting at being an adult, while still keeping a lifeline open back home. In case she got into trouble again. Had to run home again.

That she could always run back to Matthew. That she could charm him to take her back. That she could lose herself again in Matthew' love.

Hence the reasons why she drove herself at the CC Foundation to be a success.

Why Ryan Cranford thought she was on the verge of accepting his marriage proposal.

So she could make it fully on her own. Burn her bridges.

So that she would not doubt herself.

Doubt her own emotions.

Mary realized that as soon as she saw Matthew standing at the shooting range he had once again he had caught her off guard. Her emotions were up in her throat. He unnerved her. Just his presence. His person. His damned attractive person.

And she immediately resented it. No rational reason for it. He just did that to her.

So she turned on him. He had no right to demand that she feel anything towards him. That he missed her. She would not fall into his arms. She would not….

It had not gotten any better at the strained meal served a la carte style by Mrs. Patmore who insisted that Cora eat something. Cora had declined and remained in Robert's room.

The rest of the family had gathered in the large dining room. Violet trying to make small talk. Sybil catching Mary up to date on the doctor's prognosis. Edith talking to Matthew in hushed whispers.

Edith took Matthew's arm. "I'm sure you will find a way to get it done." She gave him smile. He looked uncomfortable.

It had always been apparent to Mary that Edith would have taken Matthew first. That she still held a hope of getting him even now.

"Honestly Edith why don't you just jump him now and get it over with." The voice dripping, Mary rolled her eyes and gazed directly at her. She had had enough. Throwing back her chair, she threw the napkin down and left the room.

She removed herself to her father's make shift bedroom. Sat with Cora.

"How did this happen, Mother?" Mary had inquired. "Does anyone know, know why this happened?"

"No. The doctor said that such clots are thrown indiscriminately. We might never know why." The two women gripped each other's hands.

"I'm so glad you're here." Cora said, through gritted teeth. Sounding so tired. "It's very close now. We need everyone's strength." She looked at her eldest daughter. "I need everyone's strength."

Mary nodded.

"I'll sit with him. Go get something to eat. Try to rest." Cora started to protest. But Mary said, "I'll be here. I'll tell you immediately when anything's changed."

Cora left Mary to her own thoughts. Thoughts that had ranged far into her past. Thoughts that dared to contemplate a different future.

The door opened at that moment.

Matthew poked his head in. Pausing slightly, nervous, not wanting Mary to shut him out again, he said guardedly, "Can I come in?"

Mary felt as though she were on the precipice of a cliff. Choice? Throw herself off into an unknown future or retreat into safety. But which way was which?

She met his eyes. Eyes shuttered against another verbal assault. But he was here.

"Yes." Quietly, hushed. Her voice dry and delicate.

Matthew walked the rest of the way into the room. She stayed in the chair near her father's bed side.

He sat down on the floor and leaned against the covered mattresses and box springs.

They remained quiet for a long time. Robert's coughing the only sound in the room.

"How did we let it go so wrong, Mary?" Matthew finally ventured.

"It was wrong from the beginning."

"We were wrong?" He asked.

"We were stupid."

Matthew snorted softly and threw his head back against the coverlet. "That is so true."

They took in each other's eyes. Both remembering the last time they were this close to each other. This open with each other. And how so wrong and yet so right it all was.

They had the house to themselves that night. Six years ago. No parents. No housekeeper. No one. A dangerous night.

She remembered how like a giddy schoolboy he was. Eyes dancing and flirtatious. He remembered running up the main staircase and calling out to hear the echo down in the saloon below.

"Lady Mary Crawley, follow me." She had followed. They giggled as they opened doors to rooms that neither had been in.

He walked into the bedroom set aside for Granny Violet's visit and at a dare from her, threw himself down on the grand four poster bed. He flopped back, arms thrown out, and his legs dangled over the side. He pushed himself back upright.

She told him that originally the room belonged to the 2nd Earl who would brazenly bring his mistress into the bedroom while his wife slept down the hall.

Matthew, eyes glinting with fire, said teasingly, "Come here." And he held out his arm for her to take.

"What?" Her voice, mimicking the dry tones of the aristocrat. "You'll make me untidy?" Eyes locked on his.

He licked his lips. "Good." Responding in a low, inviting register that she felt as a shattering bolt of lustful desire pulled through her body. He had never said anything like that before.

She came to him. They tossed off their clothes and reveled in each other's naked bodies as never before. No thoughts. Nothing held back.

It was as if they sought the limits of this unexplored love that they barely acknowledged.

He kissed her lips hard. His hunger barely contained. She responded by digging her nails into his skin. He nipped and tugged on her breasts. She pulled him closer until his full weight was upon her. He entered her and they pressed towards each other, eliciting moans and grunts from their lips as they flooded each other's body with pleasure. A delicious spasm of hunger moved through her. Matthew's escalating need met hers. They climaxed and lay back, breathless from the coupling, satiated.

Exposed in ways neither completely understood.

She could have stayed in that moment forever. She could have been consumed in that moment.

For it was then he chose to say the words. Words of such raw love, tumbling from his mouth, as if she was his very life. And she his. "I love you so much Mary. I'm not sure I could go on breathing without you."

A shiver ran down her spine. Reality. Not a fantasy of two lovers eternally consumed by love. But their real life.

The words took possession of her soul. She understood at her core that she could respond in kind. But her life experience, her youth told her it was too much. Too soon. She was not ready. Such love was impossible. Such love made her less than herself. He asked too much of her.

So in her naiveté she rejected his declaration. In his humiliation, he retreated to lick his wounds.

She said nothing. And he turned away.

They never talked about that night. Never met the truth of the experience.

Instead they turned against each other. Her comments got more caustic. His cowardly proposal; their joke of a marriage. His attitude became bitter petulant.

It had never healed.

Was this their second chance? Neither were sure.

Robert , at the moment, stirred in his bed. Seemed to notice the people in the room. Mary got up and sat on the bed.

"Dad." She said, "Hello. It's Mary."

Robert tried to turn towards the voice. His voice, guttural and slurred, but still clear enough to hear.

"Mary, my darling." And his hand gripped more firmly into hers. "Come closer."

Mary bent her head down. Kissed his cheek. Wiped away a tear that had formed at her father's eye lid.

"I see you, dearest girl." He paused.

"Is there someone else there?" His voice ragged but indicating he sensed another presence.

Matthew coughed, his own voice muffled with choking back some tears.

"Just me Robert." And he came closer. Bent over Mary's shoulder.

"Ah yes. Matthew my boy. So good to see you two together again."

Mary looked up to meet Matthew's eyes. His chin wobbled and quivered as he tried to answer. But he did not know what to say. Mary turned back to her father. Her eyes closed. Her mouth barely able to speak.

"Yes, Dad. We're here." Matthew gripped Mary's other hand tightly. Her fingers enclosed his own.

Robert's voice was beginning to fade again. His cough got worse and he began to heave heavy breaths.

Mary turned quickly and said, with a fervent edgy, urgency, "Go get everyone."

Matthew ran out of the room, calling for Cora and the family.

The time had come to say good-bye.

They all reassembled back in the bedroom. Cora on the bed beside Robert. Mary, Edith and Sybil on the other side. Violet in the chair. Matthew standing behind her.

Cora gripped her husband's hand. "My darling." Robert choked out, trying to speak. No words came out. Cora replied, "Hush. Don't worry." Wiping away drops of tears, tasting the salt.

He closed his eyes. His breaths became ragged and dry heaves. This went on for several minutes. And then his body settled down and his breaths stopped altogether.

In the end it was as peaceful and as dignified as he would have wanted.

For that Cora was grateful. She turned to her daughters. They gripped hands and knelt their heads in silent prayer. Violet joined them.

Matthew bent his head as well. 

Just then a loud knock shattered the silence. A bell peeled.

Matthew's head jerked up.

The front door. "Who the hell is that?"" He muttered as he left the family, gesturing that he would see to the intrusion.

He walked down the main hall through the double entrance. Unlocked the hook and opened to find himself face to face with a stranger. A man of middle age fit and well groomed. A BMW in the carpark in front of the house. No one had heard him arrive.

The man turned and smiled.

"You must be Matthew." The man said, holding out his hand. The smile was friendly, if guarded. He seemed to be sizing Matthew up.

Matthew, unsure, held out his and shook the newcomer's hand. The grip was almost a little too firm.

"I'm sorry." He said, still trying to find his voice that had left him in the bedroom. "Who are you?"

"Ryan Cranford. I know it's a bad time. But I wanted to be here for Mary. I flew in on my own plane as quickly as I could."

Matthew's mouth fell open. He quickly released his grip. Stared across the short distance to the man he now knew. Not by face. But by reputation. And by the stories he had heard second hand from Robert and Cora about Mary's boss.

About the man, Cora had said, who was dating his ex-wife.

Matthew put his fingers up to his eyes and squeezed. Taking a deep breath and saying as evenly as he possibly could, "You better come in then."

He shut the door and the two men walked into the house.

XX

_Ok. I know we've had a lot of sadness up to now. Sadness and anxiety and stress. But it is now taking a turn. Matthew and Mary have big decisions ahead of them. To keep things as they are or to give themselves another chance at love. And where does Ryan come into it all? I hope you keep reading. It will get lighter and happier. Matthew's about to throw his hat back into the ring….but will Mary accept it? _


	6. Chapter 6: What Matters

_Here's the first part of what is really one section of this part of the story. I want to put this out now and finish it up hopefully by Monday (I'm on spring break!)…. _

XX

Ryan stood awkwardly in the main saloon while Matthew thought where to put him…

Matthew narrowed his eyes and looked (he could not help himself) critically at Ryan. His immediate thought, "he's too old for her."

He shook his head. Not the time for such thoughts. He had to be the one to tell Ryan.

"Things have taken a turn for the worse, I'm afraid. Robert's died and the family is still with him."

Ryan grimaced slightly, pursing his lips. "At least I'll be here to comfort Mary then. She'll need a strong shoulder." He looked directly over at Matthew.

Disconcerted at the implied challenge to defy Ryan's role, Matthew fumbled "I …. I think we should just give them some time."

Ryan nodded. "To be sure."

"Um…We'll go into the library."

Ryan finally took his gaze away from Matthew to look around. "Mary's told me so much about Downton. Feel like I've been here already."

"Oh…" Matthew's eyes betraying his nervousness, started to dart back and forth.

"All good things, of course." Ryan said off handedly as he moved as if he knew the way towards the open door on the left and into the small library.

Matthew scratched his head, nodded, and followed him, muttering "right this way."

The two men uneasily stepped into the library space. Matthew, thinking it must be early evening, knew that Mrs. Patmore had left for the day. So no one to make sandwiches and tea. Maybe she had left a meal warming in the oven?

Matthew did not know.

There was the bar in front of the doors leading out to the back garden.

"Help yourself to whatever you like." He offered, having no idea really of the words coming out of his mouth.

He needed to get back to Robert's room.

Events seemed out of focus. As if he was going through the motions of guiding Ryan over to the drinks cart. He shook his head and pulled his eyes again with his hands to try to get back into the present moment.

He still did not want to bother Mary and her mother with the new guest.

"I'm sorry…" he trailed off as he rubbed his eyes again but Ryan picked up.

"No worries, my man." He said, taking Matthew by the shoulder.

He looked over at Matthew. "It must be overwhelming for you all. I know the feeling. Lost my wife four years ago."

It was all Matthew could do to nod. This was increasingly odd. Just a juxtaposition of emotions. He wanted to dislike this man who came uninvited into their life. But he also knew he had every right to be there for Mary. Especially given what he assumed to be the closeness of their relationship.

"I did text Mary several times and tried to call but no one answered. I thought things might have come to a head."

He looked over at Matthew. "Guess this makes you Earl, now? Doesn't it." Walking over to sit down on the divan near the fire place Ryan continued, "funny that. I was just reading on the flight over about the new law going through parliament giving women the chance to inherit titles rather than always finding some obscure male fourth cousin twice removed kind of thing. Typically English, 'bout time I thought, so old fashioned."

Ryan took a swig of the drink and continued, "More fair to Mary, though, if the law had happened earlier. Not to be now."

He shrugged his shoulders, got up to get a refill, and looked askance over at Matthew, "Still, all good for you isn't it."

"Yes." Matthew said, narrowing his brow and saying matter-of-factly, really unclear how to answer what seemed an accusatory insinuation that he was stealing Mary's birthright.

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." Ryan held up his drink.

Is this guy for real? Was he being dismissed? Matthew thought. He refused to be put out by Ryan's assertive attitude but in the span of five minutes Matthew had already decided he did not like him.

Not surprising really.

He pursed and tightened his lips, "I'll just go see if Mary and Cora are ready…" And he left the room leaving Ryan to pour his own drink out of the whisky decanter.

As Matthew approached Robert's first floor bedroom door, he sighed and tried to regroup his thoughts. There was so much to do. Calling the doctor and the accompanying officiality of reporting Robert's death.

He opened the door gently and looked in. Sybil was closest. He gently called out her name. Sybil and he had become close friends over the years. He treated her like the younger sister he never had and she felt his overprotective big brother act more than once recently as she began to date more frequently.

Her latest boyfriend, a tech geek named Colm Moran actually helped Matthew revise and update the Downton web site that had gone sadly lacking in Robert's antiquated care. Matthew, on Sybil's urgent plea that they needed the publicity, contracted with Moran's startup company to streamline the links and update the social media on the site. Even Matthew agreed traffic was up and it looked good.

Sybil approached.

"Syb I need your help." Matthew looked over at Mary who was trying to help her mother into a chair beside Robert's bed but Cora shook off Mary's arm.

Cora looked strong but gaunt in the face and her hands were shaking.

"Can you get Mary to come out? Her…. Her boss. .. . her boyfriend" he resisted the word, "is here."

Sybil's response "What?" stretched out the vowels in incredulity.

Mathew gave her a wide-eyed look. "I've got him in the library. I need to help Cora with the arrangements. Can you all go and meet with him. I need to pull Cora out of the room to get … to get things started." He slumped his shoulders and hesitated over his words again. "I'll meet her in the garden room."

"Leave it to me." Sybil said, ever the practical one. "Go and start making the phone calls."

Matthew left to phone the doctor so they could begin the process of the removal of Robert's body to the funeral home.

While Matthew and Cora were ensconced in the garden room, Mary introduced Ryan to her younger sisters.

She took his arm. If she was surprised by his appearance she gave no indication. Mary had not met Ryan when his wife died, but they talked extensively about her passing as she took up more responsibility at the Foundation named for and working in honor of the woman. Mary knew that Ryan loved his wife dearly, and mourned her death.

But it was becoming increasingly clear that he was ready to move on. And to move on with Mary.

She liked Ryan. Liked his ability to get money and research for the foundation that was not just for show but actually helped families in need. He oversaw every aspect of the work and made sure as much money as possible went towards furthering their cause rather than in overhead costs or in the pockets of the board of directors.

He was also used to getting his way. He had made most of his money in the style of Rupert Murdoch or Richard Branson taking advantage of the heady early days of the internet and media sales as well as strategic investments in hedge funds and other Wall Street properties.

A certain part of Mary's personality was excited by Ryan's decisiveness. When she was with him she enjoyed his company. He was never less than supportive of her ideas and her plans for the foundation. She felt he always had her back.

But then he really did not have anything to lose by supporting her. They were not close enough to have hurt each other. To have a complicated history. To have mess up each other's life.

Mary tried to shake herself out of the reverie.

But the memories continued.

She had never brought Ryan to England to meet her father. Cora had met him when she visited California. But Mary could never take him back home. Back to Downton. Back to where she lived her life with Matthew.

She had thought if she was to live this new life she had forged, it had to be in California. Away from all thoughts of home. Of safety. Of Matthew.

But was she now about to fall into another type of safe relationship?

Her father asked her on her last visit home, when they sat late at night and discussed her relationship with Ryan, Why are you not more happy? I don't see someone on the brink of heaven?

She rolled her eyes. "Oh Dad. You sound positively like someone from a previous age. I think I'm old enough to decide things for myself."

"It's true you're no longer a child, my dear. I want a good man for you, a brave man…." He trailed off. "Ryan sounds like one of these modern cowboys riding the success of last few years. I wish him good fortune."

He sounded wistful. "Not all of us are so lucky."

Robert turned to his daughter. "If he is what you want. But I have to ask." He hesitated and took her hands in his. "What of Matthew? Is there no chance?"

Mary placed her hand to her head.

"He barely communicates with me. I don't know him anymore. I've changed. He's changed."

She paused and took a long breath. "The divorce was my decision. I need to accept that. But knowing it doesn't make it any easier."

She leaned towards her father, "We've let each other go. Let him move on as much as I have."

Her father looked dubious but nodded his head. "I love you my dearest girl. I hope everything works out as you want."

This conversation flashed through Mary's mind as she gripped Matthew's hand and they leaned on each other for support when Robert saw them together for the last time. Despite the paralysis, she could see her father was happy. For that she was grateful.

But what did it mean for them?

That moment she touched Matthew's hand and felt his fingers entwine hers, she felt the same tingle of electricity she always sensed when his skin moved against hers…. Was it just that of two people who dearly loved Robert and the sensation an instinctive understanding of the love they felt for the man whose life was ebbing before them…?

Or was it something more. Her body tingled the same as if he kissed her a thousand times.

Mary cursed herself silently. She knew these uncertainties would come as soon as she returned. As soon as she saw him.

So to blunt these doubts, she was grateful for Ryan's presence.

This was her life now.

"Ryan, have you had anything to eat?" She asked turning towards him as he chatted with Edith about some renovations Robert had recently had completed to the library.

"On the plane." He said, "I'm fine for right now."

They both turned at that moment as they could all hear the low, rumbling voices from the hall of the doctor and funeral home officials talking in low tones. They could also hear the sounds of a gurney on wheels moving out the door.

Mary instinctively gripped Ryan's fingers and her face turned white. Eyes vacant with grief and haunted with pain.

Matthew walked into the library from the double front foyer.

His own tired eyes reflected back Mary's anguish. But they also noticed her hand inside that of Ryan's. He closed his eyes to the sight.

His jaw tightened and he realized he could not speak. He was no longer the man she would go to for comfort.

He willed himself to make an effort. It came out choked, expressionless. "I have to go with Dr. Clarkson." The words, slow and even, the voice dry, "I'll be back rather late, I think."

Mary started to walk towards him, but he continued rapidly, "Cora is staying here. She's gone upstairs. I don't know if she wants to see anyone."

He turned just as quickly and left the room.

XX

Mary stayed with her mother until she fell asleep. Every bone felt stiff. Every muscle stretched beyond enduring. Her head was throbbing. Would this night ever end?

She returned to her own room and after taking some Paracetamol she dropped asleep herself.

The morning light came in through the window and awakened her early. The warmth felt good. Mary slipped off the sheets but got no further than moving her legs over the side of the bed, eyes blinking, getting her bearings.

Feeling a bit stronger she walked towards the drapes. She slowly opened them until the full morning sun flood lit her room.

The warmth strengthened her. She took in the same view she had gazed upon since she was a child. It was the same. Yet she was different.

Her father was gone. They would walk no longer upon the grounds. He would no longer be there to fight with, to give her advice wrong or right. Just to be there.

It was all going to be different.

She absent mindedly rubbed her brow. Shook her head.

She dressed quickly and was opening her smaller suitcase when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in." She said, curious.

Ryan walked in.

Ever slightly disappointed, she did not show it. "Hello." He came over and gave her a hug.

"I just wanted to see that you're alright. It's been such an emotional night." His strength of arms felt good.

Trying to sound conversational Ryan expressed, "What a lovely room. Did you decorate it? It seems to have your taste."

"We'll go down for breakfast shall we?"

Mary nodded and they both left.

Entering the dining room it was bustling with activity. Mrs. Patmore was chatting away trying to fill the space with talk of the weather or daily activities.

Anything really.

Sybil and Edith were pouring their coffee and checking their mobiles for messages. Also trying to look normal.

To act like today was any other day. Any other day than the day after they lost their father.

Violet was still sleeping. No one knew quite yet how to address their beloved grandmother's grieving. To lose her own son. Her only son. It was too much for her.

Cora was also still upstairs. Sybil had gone to check and brought her a tray of food. Cora had proclaimed herself well enough to eat and dress on her own and shooed her daughter out of the bedroom.

Matthew was at the table eating. It looked for all to see as if he had not slept at all. His hair disheveled and in the same clothes as the previous day, his eyes looked slack and he pulled at the muscles of his neck to loosen the headache that had plagued him since the early morning hours.

Mary and Ryan's entrance together did not help Matthew's mood.

Mary moved towards the sideboard and the coffee urn.

Ryan got a plate a food and sat down across from Matthew.

Mrs. Patmore's chatter died away as she took in atmosphere that had gone as chilly as her strawberry mouse pie.

Ryan started in casually, trying to start some kind of conversation. "Must be the jet lag or something, but I got up early and took a walk. I didn't want to stir Mary."

Matthew's lips curled but he said nothing.

"Walked all the way to the Greek columned ruin thing… "He tried to smile over his stumble "…anyway you can see how well Robert maintained his domain."

"Later though, I couldn't help but also admire the antiques. I noticed some rather valuable Lalique vases in Mary's room."

Matthew looked up sharply.

"They're really beautiful but it got me thinking about the somewhat antiquated security arrangements at Downton. I know that Mary wants to leave these items in place so… "

That was it.

Matthew's frustration blew out "Our security is more than adequate. And as you reminded me last night, I'm the earl now. Mary will just have to trust my judgment on these matters."

He got up abruptly and pushed back his chair. "Unless of course you want to remove anything for safe keeping in California. Or maybe you want to buy the place. .. "

At that he made a quick excuse and left the room before he said anything else he'd have to regret later.

Mary, mouth agape, followed him out.

"Matthew." She said, pulling his arm and making him stop. He was visibly shaking.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

"I know we're all on edge, but I think that was uncalled for. He was just making small talk really."

Matthew nodded. He wanted to be a million miles away from this conversation. She was so close.

He could feel her moist breath against his skin.

He pulled away.

She noticed. But said nothing.

After some hesitation he said "The thing is… I thought for a moment last night that we…we…" He tightened his lips together.

"Never mind. I was wrong." He tried to conjure up a half-smile. It never made it across his face.

Mary ever so slightly tugged on the edge of his shirt sleeve. Not willing to be so close without touching him. Not willing that he be so aggrieved.

"Matthew… please tell me…"

"The truth? That's just it. We don't tell each other the truth anymore." He cocked his head imperceptibly.

"Tell me now…" softly Mary continued to rub his arm.

His voice husky and dark "…I don't want him here... but you don't want to hear that."

At first she took it the wrong way. Brisk and dismissive.

"What business is it of yours... I'm sure you've dated women as well..."

He sighed. "That's not the point..."

In frustration, "Well then what is… we have to get this out."

"I don't like thinking of him in your room..." She almost missed it, he said it so gingerly.

"That's rather presumptuous don't you think?" She queried.

"Well was he...?" Matthew asked, barely above a whisper. Begging in his mind not to really know the answer.

"No Matthew."

He exhaled.

Said in order to ease his anxiety. Then more in understanding to take in his jealousy.

"No he wasn't." She met his eyes.

They positioned their heads close together so that their foreheads touched. It was once again just the two of them. No one else in their world.

"Oh Matthew..." Mary's voice no longer dry and distant but enveloped with warmth.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

He grimaced. "An hour or so. I was up with the coroner and the doctor and by the time I got home I just collapsed on the couch in the music room."

Mary closed her eyes. He had done so much. "Thank you for doing all that for us. You should have called me. I'd have come help."

"It's fine. My job now really. As Ryan keeps reminding me." He guffawed slightly. "I'm sorry I blew up."

More hesitatingly "Ryan has been very good to me... We've been through a lot since his wife died."

"...I know." Quietly, a whispered invocation that only she could hear.

"I just want to be the one to comfort you..."

Mary fingers caressed his face gently.

"You do." She cupped his cheek. "You just did."

Hearing voices in the hallway, they part quickly.

Matthew shook his head to clear his thoughts and said, "I've got to get out of here. I'm going to London for a few days. Sort things out at work. Get my mother and bring her here for the funeral. I think Cora and you will have those arrangements in hand. I don't think I could be any help there."

He met her coal black eyes. "I don't think I can stay."

"I understand."

Their eyes always said everything their voices could not.

Matthew showered, dressed, packed and left within the hour.

XX

_First part…. Rest to come shortly. They're getting closer…._


	7. Chapter 7: What Comes After

_Well this chapter took longer than I expected to get out. But here it is picking up where we left off with Matthew leaving Downton and returning to his flat in London._

XX

Matthew, after a long train ride, got into his Camden Town flat. He thought about going into chambers, but instead called the office and met up with one of the clerks over a meal to see if there was anything urgent. He then returned to the flat where he fell asleep.

At only 570 sq. ft. it was just enough space. Matthew enjoyed the contrast to the vast estate of Downton. As a lease holder he had enhanced the value of the property with some modern kitchen innovations and hardwood flooring. The flat had a kitchen, small living area, bedroom and a wrought iron staircase that led to an open space terrace overlooking the Camden High street.

In their tête-à-tête before he left Downton that same morning, Mary had been incorrect about one thing.

He had never brought any woman to Downton.

Only here.

The place Mary had never visited.

Early in their marriage he asked her join him in London. But she seemed uninterested in either the goings on at the Old Bailey or the chance to be with him in the evenings after he had finished.

Later on he simply stopped asking. London became a kind of refuge away from the drama of Downton.

The surreal coincidence of his being accepted into chambers and receiving the letter from Lord Grantham meant that he dealt simultaneously with two life altering events. Yet strangely after being called to the bar he had settled rather easily into 2 Equity Court and the banking and commercial dispute resolution in which he had specialized.

He worked hard at the job.

He thought it at the time it was the right thing to do. To show those at Downton that he did not need their money or their title to be successful.

Even so, the rumors of being the head of chambers 'fair haired boy' (or worse) stung. It did not help that the pompous and vain chambers head, Guthrey Fainshawe, had fixed Matthew in his sights as soon as heard about his meeting with Lord Grantham. How the man even found out Matthew never knew, but it dogged him

Fainshawe liked the idea of a future earl in chambers.

So it made him work even harder. He was ranked in Chambers Guides, reviewed in several journals, and his name was whispered for better things. He had agreed to travel all across Europe and at one time travelled for a month to Singapore and the Asian branch office.

But the result was that he and Mary sometimes went weeks without seeing each other.

None of that helped his marriage.

No good for any marriage. Especially one as fragile as theirs.

So it was just as much his fault their marriage failed as Mary. He would have carried on with their marriage. That was true. But that did not make for success. She had been right to end it.

He had kept the London flat after the divorce; indeed spending more time in London than in York. The few liaisons with women over the years, while pleasurable in the moment, rarely lasted. He met a few after work but would inevitable sabotage things by not returning calls or becoming distant and disinterested.

Work got him through the years. It had become an end in itself. A series of accomplishments to make up for other failures.

But no matter how much he procrastinated, Matthew had to face Fainshawe eventually. Better to get it over with.

Early the next morning he walked over to the chambers' offices ostensibly to check in. But he knew as soon as walked in the door that the gossip machine would go into overdrive. Just as he suspected when he sat down in his office chair, his mobile buzzed. Fainshawe wanted to see him. He groaned slightly and said he'd be right there.

"Sorry of course to hear about your… uh…what … uh former father in law's death. Unexpected wasn't it."

Matthew simply nodded. "Please just get to the point…" he begged in his head. He shifted in the chair wanting to leave.

"So you're Earl of Grantham now, eh." Fainshawe actually clapped his hands together so pleased with this news. "I have some clients who would like to meet with you…"

Before he could say anything more Matthew interrupted "Right. Right. But I'm really only in town today to check status on some of my current disputes…" And he got up to leave. "I've got to go back for the funeral in a couple of days so I have limited time…"

He expected an argument. A reprimand at the least. Fainshawe hated being interrupted.

But he got an affirmation instead.

"Of course, of course." And he held out his hand to take Matthew's. "I appreciate you coming in at all under the circumstances."

Matthew swallowed hard. Deference? From Fainshawe? Fucking hell, he thought glancing up through skeptical eyes; he really is in a rarefied air now.

Matthew accepted the outstretched hand. He blinked. "Thank you for understanding."

Fainshawe grasped Matthew's fingers tight. "But you will meet with these gentlemen soon." The smile was oily, obsequious even. But the message was clear.

"That's more like it." Matthew thought, reassured that Fainshawe was the toady boot licker he always thought.

Matthew retreated back to the safety of his office. He took up his mobile and began responding back client calls that he had deferred while in York. His was still working on their issues, he reassured them using his most mellifluous voice. After it was all he could take, he rang off and threw his head back into the seat of the chair.

He finished up some paper work and met with the clerks working his case load. He received some strained condolences from colleagues.

Eventually he just left. He'd deal with all of the rest later. Matthew met Will Mason for a drink at the corner pub. His only real friend from chambers, Will was another lawyer who had also pupilled under Charlie Carson.

"There you are, milord…" Will's open faced smile greeted Matthew when he slid onto the pub stool already holding a pint in hand.

"Don't you start." Matthew grinned and took a long pull on the ale.

He stretched out. "Oh God. I just need to sit and drink." Held up his hand before Will could open his mouth again. "No. Very serious here. Drink first. Talk later."

After a considerable silence between the two friends where the only things Matthew absorbed were the noises of the pub, the ordinary small talk of the people around him, and the dry and hops taste of the pale ale as it felt good sliding down his throat.

They ordered burgers and tucked into them.

"So you saw Mary." Will finally ventured.

Matthew looked up from his food. "Well that's not getting right into it…"

"Bored with dancing around issues. I'm a lawyer. Get right to the point. How'd she holding up?"

He tightened his lips. "As well as can be expected. Mary's strong. She has inner reserves she doesn't even know she has."

"…where do you guys stand?"

Will could ask the question as Matthew had told him all about his complicated relationship with his ex-wife.

Matthew tilted and shook his head quickly, expressing in a light tone, "Not sure." Which was better than what he would have said just two days previous.

"She's with her mother and sisters." With some hesitation on the last words of the sentence.

"… and?" Will picked up on it.

Matthew looked at him from under his eye brows. He scowled slightly. "And her boyfriend."

"Oh." Will snuffled slightly. "Oh shit!"

"Yeah." Matthew scoffed. "Flew in on his private jet." He nodded in bemusement as Will looked up. "Oh yes he did."

"That's gotta be rough. This is the boss, right?"

"Yes. I couldn't take it so I left. He'll still be there though when I get back for the funeral."

He hesitated. Pulled on his eyes and rubbed them. "I've got to lead the service along with Cora." He grimaced. "My new responsibilities."

"Life can really deal it all to you at the same time can't it." Will tried to sound philosophical. "But damn that's a lot to take in."

He looked over at Matthew. "So you know what this calls for?" He nodded as Matthew's mouth slightly opened up to a grin.

"More drink?" He said, hopefully.

"You got it." And Will got up to get another round.

Matthew returned to his flat only a touch worse for wear as Will had stopped him before it got to oblivion, a point Matthew said would have felt rather good at the moment.

XX

The early morning knock on the door punctured the air like a battery of incoming artillery fire, but it woke him up. Groggy, but awake.

Matthew pushed his tangled hair out of his face, rubbed his stubble, cursed that he did not brush his teeth, and stumbled to the door.

Opened it to find his mother. He leaned on the door frame and groaned.

"Matthew." Isobel Crawley's crisp vocal intonation sounded the same as it did when he was a truant teenager. Her eyes took in her son's appearance in one glance. "It's after 11 am. I've been trying to get you all morning."

And she bustled in tutting her son's disheveled appearance.

"Hello, Mother." Matthew said resignedly, and kissed her cheek. "Give me ten minutes. Go put the coffee on."

And he rushed to shower and change.

Returning to the most welcome intoxicating fragrance of freshly brewed coffee, he took the cup from his mother's proffered hand, savored the heat and the roasted taste, and drank it down.

Isobel had taken the early morning shift at the retirement community where she supervised the nursing staff. After a long career at the Royal London Hospital, she found this semi-retirement to be to her liking. She and Matthew were to return to Downton by the late afternoon train. So there was just enough time to get him ready once again to face the music up North.

They had been in communication so Isobel knew the lay of the land at Downton.

She also saw the signs that her son was once again feeling the combined mix of unease and delight that was his base emotional level whenever Mary entered ( or re-entered) his life.

But this time, it had the added stress of his newly minted aristocratic status.

Neither of them quite knew what the future held. She remembered back to the day when the embossed and sealed letter came in the mail decreeing her middle class, scholarship educated son to be the heir to the great estate of Downton. Open mouthed after reading the missive, Matthew had said "They want to change our lives."

If truth be told, Isobel did not care a fig for such life changes. She only cared about her son. Not the title. Not the land. And not, if she was being truthful, Lady Mary Crawley, who had thrown her beloved son over without so much as a by your leave.

For that she found it hard to forgive.

"You must not let them dictate your life." She said emphatically over the coffee. Matthew was going over all the new responsibilities the earldom entailed.

"I'm going to have to, Mother. You know that."

"You let them choose your own wife. Look how well that turned out. She hurt you. …"

"Mother." His clipped tone stopped her. They had been all through that. "I won't have you speak ill of Mary at a time like this."

She put up her hands. No more discussion on that topic. Isobel knew Matthew was right. Robert had been a good man and a good father.

It had at first seemed odd to Isobel that Matthew stayed on so much at Downton after the divorce. Until she visited and realized that Robert and Matthew had developed, apart from their in-law status, an unusual _in loco parentis_ relationship. Robert clearly relished having a son, even if it was under strained circumstances. And Matthew had grown to admire Robert and even indulge the older man's wishes. Like the gun range that the two men had planned and designed over months.

Matthew's own father had died when he was 17 from a massive heart attack. And although it drew mother and son particularly close, Matthew rarely talked about his father. So Isobel had encouraged this relationship with Robert.

Even if it meant having to live with the ghost of his failed marriage.

He seemed perfectly willing to do it. And that, in and of itself, was distressing to Isobel.

Now she worried he was setting himself up yet again to be hurt. But she said nothing.

They finished the light lunch Isobel had prepared and they got ready to leave.

XX

The even toned, polite voice was well practiced. "Lady Marley, so good of you to get back with me. We all know Dad and Lord Marley go way back and it's wonderful he'll do a reading." Mary's head nodded as she took in the older woman's voice on the mobile.

She had been at the arrangements for the funeral for the past couple of days. The service was to be early the next morning. Cora and the rector of St. Mary's in the village had made sure accommodations for distinguished visitors had been arranged properly. Prince Andrew had already phoned and said he'd be there as a fellow veteran of the Falklands campaign.

Mary turned to the list on the desk in the library. Cora had written down several names and numbers of individuals that she particularly wanted to have a role in the service.

Ryan and Edith were in the other room largely trying to stay out of the way. As a freelance journalist for several on line publications, Edith said she'd write up the obituary and send it into the newspapers. Sybil had taken on the responsibility of dealing with Mrs. Patmore and the food for the luncheon following the funeral service.

At the moment though, Mary needed a rest. It was late afternoon and the sun was streaming in after a morning of rain and gloom. She wanted to get outside

The decision to sit on the bench under the large, sheltering oak tree was an excellent idea. She had sat there since her childhood, reading or day dreaming.

Mary's thoughts allowed her some respite the day before the funeral. Thoughts of her father though were never far from her mind.

Matthew's presence also provoked memories as she closed her eyes and tried to rest as the warmth of the sun penetrated her body.

Matthew had found her sitting on the same bench on a similarly hot day early in their marriage.

They had reached a stage in their marriage where they had gotten past the awkwardness of their honeymoon but still had not reached a comfort level. It was still walking around on eggshells, acknowledging their attraction but unable to connect. Their guards up against being hurt.

That day though, Mary thought, was a good day. She was tired that day as well. But it was because her mother had her arranging tables and fixing decoration for the annual Downton Village flower show. She hated it as only a 21 year old could. So she played hooky and came back to the Abbey where she flopped down on the bench.

That was where Matthew had found her. He looked knackered as well. He sat down next to her. Gave her the goofy grin that always made her smile back.

"What are you escaping?" She asked.

He looked over. "Your father takes the village cricket match very seriously. I've spent the past two hours listening to him go over all the players' strengths and weaknesses."

Mary smirked. "You should never have told him you played." Matthew quirked his head and nodded.

"Well you got off lightly. I've spent all morning taking orders on flower arrangements." She rolled her eyes.

"Ah the problems of the aristocracy." Matthew spoke off the cuff.

"Never mind, then." Mary, trying to cut him off.

"I'm just kidding." Matthew retorted. "I'm sure it's quite demanding. Especially the taking orders part."

He enjoyed their sparring. Hoped she would take it in kind.

She did.

"Oh that's nothing compared to the cut throat rivalry between the competitors."

He pursed his lips. "Sounds like something out of Midsomer Murders. 'Death among the Roses' or something…" He trailed off he got her to smile once more.

"I have you know that the village takes it very seriously. …" she paused… "Even if I don't."

"There were rumblings of voter fraud last year." She said as Matthew suppressed a snort. He bit his tongue and looked over.

"Well you can't just leave it there…" He said, "What happened?"

"Granny and the head gardener at Downton Mr. Molesley used go back and forth every year on the best village rose. Well Granny's won for the past four years and the Molesley's backers demanded a recount last year."

The glare was causing his eyes to look opaque and Matthew squinted in the sunlight.

"And what happened…"

"They backed down and Granny won." She sounded quite satisfied at the outcome.

Matthew resisted another snort but Mary sensed his disapproval.

"What." She demanded with a touch of insouciance. "I have you know Granny works in her garden every day. I think that was quite the right decision. Don't you?"

"Well what if her rose was not the best in the village?" He responded in kind.

She looked at him from above her eyes. "Who's to say they were not. It might have been a case of simple village jealousy."

"Well I'd have to know more about the roses in question, I'm afraid." He intoned mockingly.

"Spoken like a true lawyer." She rejoindered.

They both laughed. He reached out and clasped her hand in his and they went for a walk.

XX

Matthew noticed her from outside the garden room window. He opened the French doors and strolled out. His mother had gone upstairs to unpack. The rest of the family was busy.

He cautiously approached her under the shaded tree. She felt his presence and stirred. Opened her eyes and blinked in the contrasting sun and shade.

"Matthew." She said more warmly than he expected, "I was just thinking about you."

"Good things I hope." He said cautiously, still not sure exactly where they stood with each other.

"The village flower show debacle." She decided not to question his caution. She had, she knew, earned that guardedness. It was a new goal of hers to earn back his friendship.

"Ah yes." He sat down on the bench next to her. Maintaining the space in between them.

"Molesley had to wait two more years it turned out before he won again." He smiled back at her. "Violet was quite put out."

He moved so that he was facing her with his leg slightly resting on the space on the bench in between them.

"How's it going here?"

"We've made all the arrangements. Mother is finishing up some personal things. The security detail is going over the church right now." She said, turning her lips slightly into a concerned frown. "With Prince Andrew coming they're taking no chances."

"I suppose not." Matthew responded uneasily. If he was intimidated by the presence of royals at the funeral he was determined not to show it.

"Robert would talk very little about his service in the war." He finally said.

He shook his head. "My own father did his national service in Germany. He did his time and got out. He would simply say 'not the most pleasant two years of my life' and leave it at that."

Mary had rarely heard Matthew speak of his father. She turned to him.

"I bet you were the perfect son."

"Not always." He said, quietly, a memory tugging at the edge of his mind made him squirm slightly on the bench.

He looked off in the distance, squinting again as he invariably did as the glare of the sun struck his blue eyes.

Mary remained quiet but curious. She waited for him to speak again. It looked like he wanted to say something.

"When I was at school." He started but hesitated. "… I was on scholarship at Mowbray. Dad was proud, of course, but grateful as he could not have afforded the tuition. So I knew I had to do well. But you know, you get there, try to make friends… fit in." His voice got distant, his hands pushing out from his body as he tried to conjure up the boy he was.

"There were a group of us. God, you know… bored teen age boys stuck at school when you wanted to be anywhere else. We used to meet out behind the old tennis courts that no one used anymore. Fred…my roommate… would bring beer or liquor. Sometimes he brought other things."

"Friday afternoons we'd meet. Hang out."

He turned to Mary. "One afternoon I was to go down to a certain street at a certain time to meet a guy who had …. had some weed to buy. I was to get it and bring it back."

Mary lips curled inward and her eyes widened. "Don't tell me…"

"Yeah. I got caught. Undercover coppers. They didn't want me but I went in to the station with the collar. The dealer." He chuffed at his own stupidity.

"I was going to be booked." He looked Mary in the eyes. "But more important I had to call my Dad to get me out. To tell him why I was there. To tell him I would probably lose my scholarship because of it."

He grabbed his hair in chunks and nervously pulled it back over his head.

"I thought it was the worst thing I ever had to do. But I was wrong. What was far worse was waiting for him to show up. The disappointment in his eyes made me cringe."

"He finally saw me sitting in one of the chairs by the station desk. I barely met his eyes. He walked on past me and into a room. Came out and took me home."

"I don't know what he did. But I never got a record and I never lost my scholarship."

"So you weren't punished?" Mary asked.

Matthew sigh turned into a choked gasp. "He died the next year. I never got to show him that I finished up ok. That his trust in me was justified."

"He knew, Matthew. Because he was your father and you were his son."

Matthew gave her a half-smile and nodded.

Mary said quietly, "I know that look of disappointment well. It's just as bad as any other kind of punishment. I let Dad down when I flunked out. Let myself down of course. But somehow it was worse with Dad."

"At least you had the time with him to made amends." His face got more animated and said, "I know you made him proud when you graduated from Stanford. He was walking on air after that phone call."

Mary trembled beside him. She reached out and took him by the arm. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Matthew started to say else something but stopped himself. Mary inquired what it was and he tried again.

"I never quite understood why you flunked out the first time around. By the time I arrived at Downton you had already come back home. But I was damned impressed that you had got into the London School of Economics in the first place."

"Thank you for that." She pulled a loose strand of hair back her ear. "But I realized once I got there that the determination to get in was one thing. The discipline and interest needed to stay was quite another."

"I hated it frankly." She frowned. "Not just the work, but the driven atmosphere of the place. I just didn't fit in. So I stopped trying. Stopped going to classes."

Shaking her head, Mary continued, "I went to a party one Saturday. Met a guy. I was so down in the dumps and self-hating I realize now. I knew he was wrong. Ended up dumping me after a week. Told me I was too frigid and not worth the effort. All in front of my so-called friends at another party as he hit on someone else."

"Nothing more humiliating." Mary said, "I crept out. Went home. Cried all day. Packed my bags and came home."

"I never told anyone." She turned on the bench. "But I hated myself for weeks. I didn't care what happened after that. Dad never asked what happened. I let him assume it was all because of the grades."

"God Mary, then I show up and we're pushed together?" Matthew hated himself at that moment. "No wonder it didn't work. It could never have worked. You weren't ready for any of that. I should have known better."

"You weren't to know." She said lightly, "and you weren't to blame."

He nodded imperceptibly. Could it be they were becoming friends at last?

Just then Cora called to Mary from the house. They got up to go back inside.

XX

The funeral proceeded according to the ideas set out by Cora. Several readings by close friends and family. Robert's favorite hymns. Prince Andrew reminisced about the younger Robert Crawley and their shared experiences on the carrier _Invincible._

Matthew ended the service. His rich baritone voice echoing through the small church sanctuary as he took his time reading the lines from Shakespeare's Cymbeline

_Fear no more the heat of the sun,  
Nor the furious winter's rages;  
Thou thy worldly task hast done,  
Home art gone, and taken thy wages..._

Violet held Mary's hand on the left. Mary and Cora, seated next to each other, hands clasped as they comforted each other. Cora's other hand entwined with Sybil's who held Edith's hand on her right. Ryan bowed his head as the bearers lifted the coffin and headed towards the burial site in the churchyard where all the Crawley's had been buried for over a century.

Guests mingled inside the Abbey and outside on the terrace as Mrs. Patmore had set up tables and food in both locations.

Ryan grabbed Mary's attention and reminded her that they had to get going. It was unfortunate timing but they had to get to Manchester airport and his plane before nightfall if they were to get back to California. The Foundation had its annual benefit in two days and both the chairman and the head of donations and sponsors had to be present.

Mary knew this to be true. She could not miss the Benefit. She and Anna had worked very hard setting everything up and she needed to be there to help organize things behind the scenes as well as greet and thank the many sponsors and donors to the foundation. She was the face of the Foundation that most sponsors knew and trusted.

Cora was to travel the next day to California on a commercial flight. Ryan had offered to take her as well but Cora needed to stay overnight to pack and complete thanking everyone in attendance. She would stay with Mary in California for the next several weeks as Matthew adjusted to his new role as Earl of Grantham. And figuring out her new station as Dowager.

Mary nodded to Ryan and began to look around the room for Matthew.

She needed to find Matthew. To tell him. Mary had put off this moment earlier as they were talking so easily and in such confidence about private matters that neither of them had disclosed during their marriage.

She found that she had reached out to him and he responded. That this mattered. This was important and she could not break that bond by telling him she had to leave later that afternoon.

Now it had to be done.

Matthew was doing his best greeting everyone and taking their condolences. He also felt the locals both aristocratic and commoner were sizing him up as the next Earl. He was going to have to work with the villagers on land rights issues. He was to now socialize more often with the local gentry types and the closest aristocratic neighbors as well.

He was trying not to feel intimidated by it all.

Matthew's eyes wandered across the room and as usual fell onto Mary. She was in black. She looked up and felt his eyes upon hers. They locked gazes across the room. She tilted her head slightly towards the library exit.

He followed her out.

They met outside the library. The crush of guests made them escape into the confines of a smaller hallway off to the left. The privacy allowed them to talk more freely.

"Matthew." Mary said, before he could say anything. "I've got to go very soon. We… we have to get back to Palo Alto for a very important Foundation event. I helped plan it. I have to be there."

Matthew stared at her. Unblinking. Trying to take in her words.

"You." He looked askance as people walked by and their voices drowned out what he was about to say.

"You're going?" Querulously as if he could not believe he was comprehending her words.

He furrowed his brow.

"I have to." She said gently. She took his hands in hers. Both quavered at the touch.

"But we… we… just…" He could not finish his thought. She was going? When was she coming back? There was so much more to say. So much more he wanted to say.

They stood looking at each other. So close that they felt each other's moist breath.

She turned her face up to meet his eyes. Such sad eyes. Eyes that could never lie.

She could not just leave it at that.

Mary moved so that her lips touched his. Lightly at first. She tasted his tongue. Savoring the sensation.

Matthew trembled. "...She was not his. She was not his." He reminded himself.

The moment over took him.

He lifted her frame closer to his body. His arms went around her waist.

His lips touched hers back. His mind empty. Her lips consumed his only want. His need to feel her against him again.

They crashed into each other's. Unwilling to break the space between them. Nothing keeping them apart. Their lips molded together. Flesh. Tongues. Pressure. A delightful frisson wrapped through their bodies.

A kiss, deep and penetrating, that was just theirs. A transcendent moment of forgiveness.

A kiss without expectation or causation. Just the need to touch and be touched.

Breathless they parted.

Neither knowing what it meant. A new beginning? Or an ending?

Neither cared to take in the consequences. It was enough that they were together.

Matthew let her go. Mary's hand lingered on his arm and he held it out as she touched the length of his sleeve until it reached his fingers. They intermingled their fingers until she let go completely.

There was no need for further words. This healing moment would be theirs forever.

The future would take care of itself.

XX

_Okay so that's more or less the first part of this story. We'll pick it back up a few weeks later with Mary in California and Matthew at Downton. Hint: the fun is just starting!_


	8. Chapter 8: Conversations

_I'm very happy that so many people are enjoying this story. It's beyond my expectations for sure. And people that I know personally… so I'm now so worried I will disappoint. I hope not! I want this story to reflect my own understanding of the core values of Mary and Matthew's relationship… love, honesty and deep passion. But getting them to grasp these values is the point of the journey…._

XX

Ryan laid his head back against the headrest. The hum of the Lear jet thrummed in his ear.

He looked over to Mary who slept, her legs outstretched and the back of the seat inclined backward. If Ryan sensed any unusual silence in Mary in the hours of the flight before they had both dozed off, he chalked it up to the stress and strain of the funeral and the exhaustion from the events of the past week.

The plane was now making its approach to the small airport outside of Palo Alto.

She stirred.

"I hope tomorrow won't be too much for you." He spoke gently across the seat.

Mary spoke as if from a great distance. "No." She shook herself out of the half sleep reverie.

"I'll be fine." She leaned forward. "I'm looking forward to being very busy."

She did not say why aloud. She willed herself not to think about the events of the past few days.

That she knew would come later. When alone. When the ghosts of her past would speak to her.

Anna was waiting on the tarmac. The two women hugged and got into the waiting car along with Ryan and another assistant. They were all to go to the Foundation headquarters for a staff meeting and then have the rest of the day off before all the events of the CC Gala Benefit tomorrow. It being such a young charity they had worked hard getting out their message. Anna worked all the social media sites generating buzz about celebs attending as well as the innovative research projects the CC was funding.

Mary was fuzzy headed during the staff meeting but did manage to get the schedule finalized and instructed her assistants to the times the donors were to arrive. To make sure each received the proper amount of thanks and attention.

They exited the conference room.

"Why don't you stay overnight?" Ryan asked. He said it cautiously, lightly. "We can work. Make sure everything is fine for tomorrow."

The gala was to be held had Cranston's 10 acre ranch outside of the main part of town.

It would have been convenient. But Mary resisted. She had stayed overnight just once at the ranch when they had late work to complete. She stayed in the guestroom. Ryan, among other things knew about possible fraternization and sexual harassment repercussions at work, so was very cautious in his approach towards Mary.

She knew the signs however. He was making his move.

"No. I'll be fine. I will be picking Anna up in the morning as she lives further out of town and I have to make the guest room suitable for my mother's arrival."

She said it lightly even though the following silence was awkward. Things had reached an uncertain point in their private relationship. That uncomfortable point where things either moved forward or stalled.

Ryan put out a dismissive hand as if to say that's fine. "Then I'll see you in the morning."

Ryan had been told very little of Mary's past life. She had opened up to him only on occasion.

He had begun making assumptions and observations based upon this last visit.

He got the sense from Mary's hesitancy that Matthew had hurt her in some way. Broke her. For that he found it hard to like the man.

In his dealings with Matthew Crawley he found the younger man to be sullen (which was not surprising given the circumstances) but also bad tempered and a bit entitled.

Not that he said anything like that to Mary. Instead he kept silent on the issue of her ex-husband. At least for now.

Ryan kissed her lightly on the lips. She smiled.

Mary closed the office door behind her and left for her apartment.

She was eager to just get home, eat, and small talk with Anna. At least the tired, stressed out body parts of her was.

Ryan was being considerate she knew that. His tenderness was appreciated.

But her mind was on a different kiss.

She drove home. The jet lag was making her confused. She could not nap. Yet she could not stay fully alert.

What did the kiss with Matthew mean? She spent most of the day forcing herself not to think about its enticing enjoyments…the taste of his lips, his tongue caressing hers.

Dangerous thoughts. Confused thoughts.

Mary was used to men who circled around her like honey bees. And she could control them like the queen. Or alternately she was attracted to men who did not like her flirty act and found her a challenge. And then they left after it was clear she was smarter than they were.

Only once did she find a man who each mutually attracted, mutually challenged, mutually circled around. They connected at a level that unhinged her world.

They had said nothing after the kiss. She did not pull away. She lingered. She touched his arm, his fingers, his fingertips.

His thumb grazed hers.

They let go.

The look of his eyes as he pulled back. In an instant it was gone. Replaced with a more hooded, cautious look. A more balanced gaze.

But it had been there. She was sure. The look of a man inviting her … whether he consciously meant to or not… inviting her to what? A new beginning?

She tried to explain it all to Anna.

Anna had arrived a couple hours after Mary got home and after some persuasion that she could make dinner, Mary sat in the living area while Anna ordered pizza.

Anna said firmly, "You just need to sit and veg." She nodded quickly. "No argument."

The two women had been through a lot together. First at Stanford then the Foundation.

They had shared stories. But both women were also private and each respected the other's silence on certain aspects of their life. Mary rarely talked about Matthew. Anna had some kind of destructive relationship the year before Mary met her.

But while Mary felt she came out of her marriage more confused than ever, Anna seemed to have emerged genuine and with a realistic outlook on life and love.

In other words she had a good bullshit detector.

"I am very tired." Mary admitted. "Mother is coming either tomorrow or day after tomorrow."

The pizza arrived and Anna took a slice and sat down.

Mary fussed with her pizza slicer. Taking her time putting it on the plate. Finally turning around to face Anna. Going to sit down. All taking more time that it should.

Anna looked over. "How is everyone?" Gently, not sure how to bring up the subject of Mary's trip home.

"Ummm..." Mary replied. "Coping. Coping as best you can expect. Sybil is going to stay with Violet until her next term starts. So she won't be alone."

"I see." Anna said, not forcing any further discussion.

"Matthew will take care of all the legalities." Mary said quietly. "Dad's will." Her lips quivered.

"And Downton." She swallowed. Folded her hands together and placed them up to her head. "He's taken it all under his responsibility."

She looked over to Anna. Wanting to say something more.

Anna waited patiently for Mary to start. She did not want to press. She sipped some wine.

Mary said, almost inaudibly into her hands. "We kissed."

She fidgeted. Anna raised an eyebrow. Leaned in further to hear Mary more clearly.

"Or… well... I kissed him…" She pulled the napkin through her fingers. "I don't know why." She scrunched her face and tried again.

"Or I do know why. We were saying good-bye." Her voice trying to sound resilient.

"We needed to say good-bye." But she still looked equivocal, like she was remembering the moment.

Sensing that was not all Anna probed a little further, "but…"

"But I'm not sure he saw it the same way." Shook her head. "I don't want to give him any ideas."

"We want different things…." She looked over her glass at Anna.

"We were not good together." She flashed some anger. "We argued all the time. We hurt each other."

Their personalities clashed and fumed.

It did not make for a life together. That type of custody over her soul, her mind, her being….inexplicable yet apparent to everyone…was irrational. Was impossible to sustain.

When Mary told all this to Anna she thought she was being cool and articulate.

She had this new life to consider. Ryan was very different from the men she was used to being around.

Mary felt comfortable in Ryan's presence. She was attracted to the qualities of strength and assertion he presented. He was even tempered. A natural leader. He calmed her when the days at work got stressful.

Ryan wanted to love her. He wanted her to love him.

He had hinted at marriage.

She told him she made that mistake once already in her life.

And, so far, Ryan was willing to wait.

"The kiss was a good-bye." She said firmly.

Memories of loving Matthew were like raw sore that would not heal for far too long.

And now they had. And they could move on with the rest of their lives.

"There is no going back. No new beginning." Mary looked over Anna, almost for confirmation.

Anna just kept letting her talk.

But Anna knew that the way Mary trailed off…her voice getting soft and vague meant only one thing. She did not believe what she was saying. Or not completely. Or she just wanted Anna to confirm it.

Anna looked quizzically skeptical. She knew the unfinished part of Mary's thought was "…or was there?"

Anna did not know Matthew.

So her gut loyalty was to Mary. She owed Mary her best advice.

"What?" Mary said.

"The only thing I know is that you can't put things in neat little boxes."

Mary looked confused.

"You say it's over. No going back. In a box. Done."

Anna shook her head. "Doesn't work like that."

"Anna" Mary said throwing her head back against the sofa. "How do you do that? You should be a psychologist."

"I've actually thought about going to grad school for that." Anna smirked slightly. "You're my first case study."

Mary laughed. "Oh God. What? And leave me alone at the Foundation?"

She got up to get more wine and sat back down. "Oh Anna. What am I to do?"

"I think you have some decisions ahead of you." Anna said.

"No." Firmly. "I won't put myself back in that position. I know what I want. I'm happy here."

Mary replied with more frustration than she meant.

"I simply can't be around him. My emotions get too out of whack."

"But he makes you feel good…"Anna started to say.

"It doesn't always feel good. Sometimes… it's like the earth spins around us. We're unmoving in the center. Just us two, alone. It feels…unnerving. Like he possesses my very soul… that can't be love."

"But you feel it too..." Anna tried gently.

"I don't know what I feel anymore…." Mary put her stemmed wineglass aside and got up.

Anna felt Mary's frustration and also got up. She gave her hug. "I'll be going. You need to get to bed!"

"I think you're right. I'm exhausted and it's going to be a long day tomorrow." She tried to fend off the lethargic feeling she'd had all day but it was no use. The emotions of the trip, the jet lag, the anticipation of tomorrow were all too much.

Mary was her best friend and Anna had hoped many times over the years that she would confide more to her about her past. This trip back home had unnerved her even more. It was very difficult giving advice to someone who confided only in bits and pieces. Anna found herself increasingly curious about Matthew. Frankly she was dying to meet him.

As Anna waved good-bye and was about to slip out the door, Mary's cell phone rang. Anna hoped it was not more bad news. Mary could barely keep her eyes open. Anna could feel her tiredness. She hoped she would get some sleep.

Yet she had to grin as Mary answered the call and with a soft tender voice. She heard her friend say, minutes after proclaiming she would never return to her past, "Matthew." Pause and then "…no I'm not tired. I can talk."

XX

Matthew sat opposite Ted McGrath. The estate manager fidgeted nervously in his seat. Matthew knew McGrath only through some of the monthly meetings he sat in on when Robert went over estate accounts. And that had been increasingly rare over the past four years as Matthew took on more responsibilities in London.

He did not really like McGrath and could not understand why Robert kept him on except for the loyalty he felt towards Ted's father who had been estate manager before him.

McGrath, in Matthew's opinion, was limited in his usefulness. Obtuse and arrogant. He balked at any new scheme Matthew had tried to introduce always saying that Robert was perfectly satisfied with the ways things ran.

Which was, also, unfortunately true. One of the reasons why Matthew had absented himself from the meetings. Neither man seemed interested in his ideas on modern land use and using the estate for multiple agricultural and recreational purposes.

But now the two men observed each other uneasily across the table. Matthew had his lap top opened to the spreadsheets that proved the points he was about to make.

Accusations really.

The Downton estate accounts were in complete disarray. He was convinced McGrath misdirected funds into his own private accounts using a system of misdirection and complication that Robert would not have picked up on. He had overstated revenues while understating expenses. It was only Matthew's experience with such maneuvering in the corporate world that clued him in.

"Mr. McGrath." Matthew started in his best barrister voice. Clipped and blunt. "I've discovered some… um…" He paused for effect. "What shall we call them?"

Cocking his head at an angle, he looked directly at McGrath. "…Discrepancies in the bookkeeping that was under your control."

Matthew intended to only say the most germane points. Any defence or attempt to deflect blame on McGrath's part would only dig his grave further.

"I don't know to what you're referring." McGrath started but his fingers tapped nervously on the table.

Matthew said nothing.

McGrath continued "If you're accusing me of something… maybe I should be allowed to look at these figures…."

"Oh I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm not going to waste any more time."

Matthew stood up. Extended his hand "Your services are no longer needed on the Downton estate Mr. McGrath. I will accept your resignation with no letter of recommendation in lieu of bringing charges against you."

"New broom sweeps clean, eh." McGrath scoffed.

"Lord Grantham trusted me to run Downton. My father before him. These estates are best managed by those who have been here and understand the traditions, the ties that bind us together." McGrath sneered. "Not that you would understand that kind of loyalty."

Just the kind of intimidation he expected. Matthew equaled his gaze. "Lord Grantham is dead." Matthew said composed and assured. "I am Earl of Grantham now."

McGrath stared at him. A smirk crossed the man's face. "You cannot run this estate without me. I know every acre, every crop, and every job of every employee."

Matthew returned that accusation with a steely gaze. "Well I'll have to see won't I. Your kind of backward thinking has left more than one estate in foreclosure and the family forced to leave. I don't intend that for Downton."

"Good day." Matthew moved to dismiss him and sit back down.

With one more disgruntled murmur, McGrath left the room.

Matthew closed his eyes and threw himself back into the chair. His hands were trembling. But he could not have let that be shown during the showdown.

He pushed his fingers into his eyes and massaged.

"Fuck it all." He thought as he sighed.

He blamed himself. He should have kept a better eye on things. He just was never sure of his place on the estate. Only the distantly related heir. No longer the son in law. He tried to help but not interfere.

Matthew had spent the two weeks following Robert's funeral in a frenzy of activities. He traveled back and forth to London trying to meet with clients assuring them he was still on their case. He used the time to also contact various law and investment advisers of the Downton estate.

What he heard disturbed him. What he read as he scanned the estate accounts also disturbed him.

Money had been set aside to pay the inheritance taxes. Matthew has been present for much of these meetings. Robert had made sure that trusts had been set up for both Edith and Sybil. Mary would continue to receive the money from her trust fund. Matthew knew he would have to pay 20% on the trusts and there would be various other fees and taxes.

Robert had tried unsuccessfully to increase his own private funds without touching the estate or his daughter's accounts. But Cora and Violet's private and personal needs were intertwined with Robert's money.

And those accounts, the ones that Matthew did not have much control over, the ones Robert dealt with almost exclusively were all in arrears. Liens on Crawley House and Grantham House due to poor investments. And the embezzlement on the estate accounts.

He pulled fingers through his hair.

The amount of work was overwhelming and he had to concentrate on the immediate tasks. But he did not want to disturb Cora or Violet with his findings. They were both reliant on Robert's money for their income. Cora had anticipated moving into Crawley house in Downton village. She had told Matthew as much as she packed to leave for California.

"Cora I really think that is unnecessary." He said over breakfast the morning he was to drive her in the estate Rover to the train station. She would take the train to Heathrow.

"I'm going to be in London a great deal. You can stay here." He had no idea what he'd do with all the space to himself. And it seemed mighty silly.

But she insisted that Downton was now for the current earl. "And" she hinted, "any future countess that might live with him."

Matthew looked up. He stopped drinking his coffee. "Well I think we both know that was unlikely to happen anytime soon."

Cora responded, "Besides, I know you have ideas for the estate. I understand that. I want some peace and I'll be fine at Crawley House."

He let it go at that for the moment.

Now all that was in doubt.

Matthew needed someone to help. Someone to talk to about these matters.

The only person he could turn to was Mary.

Again he wished it were under different circumstances. Talking to her recently as amazingly healing as it was just to hear her voice, had been always circumscribed by events. Robert's illness. His death. Funeral arrangements.

And Ryan's presence at Downton had also limited what he could say. What he wanted to say. What he needed to say.

That he wanted Ryan to go away. He chuffed slightly at the thought. He knew that was wishful thinking. And yet…

He could still feel the touch of her lips upon his. He shivered at the thought. He always would.

Matthew had picked up his mobile a few times in the hours after she had left to return to California. He had tried to calculate the time difference so that he would not wake her up. Their conversation had been brief. Neither bringing up the kiss. Or the potential fallout of their kiss. Just an affirmation that each was doing well and that Mary had arrived home safe. He had clicked off.

They had spoken a few times in the weeks since. Matthew, uncovering the extent of the debts at Downton, had kept the information from Mary.

Instead they spoke of trivialities.

Her benefit planning had gone off without a hitch. He had explained how he traveled briefly to Paris to soothe the brow of a nervous client.

"Mrs. Patmore is after me to update the kitchen. She said she had nursed the old Aga as long as possible."

"Oh you know her," Mary said, as she was trying to juggle holding her mobile while stirring some soup on the boil. "She can turn miracles. I'm sure she's just testing your limits."

"Hmm." Matthew replied, with no comment about his recent vitriolic encounter with McGrath, "I'm thinking you're probably right."

But he was not sure how to continue. So many subjects were off limits. He hesitated and paused.

"Well I guess I'll ring off…" Mary started to say.

Matthew wanted to keep her on the line. Talking about nothing in particular. He stammered out "Oh Violet wants me to hire a personal assistant."

"Or secretary as she calls it." He smiled at the conversation that had occurred a few days earlier.

Violet came for dinner with Sybil.

Matthew was working in his make shift office in the small library where he had set up a work table and lap top. He was on the phone when the two walked in the front entrance. He motioned for them to go on into the dining room and begin to eat.

Matthew knew Violet did not approve of such breach of protocol. But he had to take the call.

When he finally arrived at the table Violet started right in, "No doubt you will regard this as rather unorthodox, but I see how much pressure and work you're under. You need some help, my boy."

Violet always had a soft spot for Matthew. Maybe because he reminded her of her own beloved husband.

"Help?" He inquired, sounding dubious.

"Yes. And I think I have the solution. My god child is staying with me over the summer. Don't make me get into it… she and her mother don't get along. My poor niece never uses one word when twenty will do. And Rose is a handful. But she needs a job. You need an assistant."

He pursed his lips. "Well…" Sounded like she wanted him to take this girl off her hands more like.

Violet was just getting warmed up. "Rose is a capable girl. A bit capricious. Somewhat prone to flights of romantic fancy. But well educated. And I need her to have something to do until her school term starts again in the fall. By that time you might be better able to manage things."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "I suppose." He did need someone at Downton to field calls and deal with some day to day issues while he was in London. He could afford the expense out of his own funds. He would not have to use estate money. He could just about justify it.

"Do I know her?" He could not remember the name to save his soul.

Sybil answered for Violet. "Yes. She was at Mother and Dad's anniversary party several years ago."

Matthew continued to look vague.

"You know," Sybil continued, "the one we held outside. In the garden tent."

Matthew now had the vague notion of an annoying fourteen year old hanging around him, wanting him to take her on a walk around the estate. He thought she was a bit of a pest.

"Right. Yes. I remember. Where is she now?"

"In London getting ready to come to stay." Violet finished. "That's settled then. Good. Now let's eat."  
And she started to compliment Mrs. Patmore on the excellent fillet sole when she noticed Matthew's peeved face.

She turned to face him.

"Don't look petulant my boy." She tisked. "Not your best feature."

"You will call her?" She nodded encouragingly in Matthew's direction.

"I will." Matthew gave a reassured smile even if he was rolling his eyes internally.

He reiterated the conversation as best he could remember to Mary complete with imitations of Violet's inflections and speech cadence that made Mary laugh across the phone line.

"The upshot of it all is that I meet her tomorrow night. I had to go to London anyway and it will save time."

"I remember her being something of a flirt so you better watch out." Mary said only half-joking.

"I'll keep it in mind." Matthew replied as he rang off, pleased that he caught a whiff of slight insecurity about Matthew's upcoming meeting in Mary's intonation.

The meeting with Rose MacClare was to take place at Winks, a restaurant near Matthew's chambers. He had to attend an art exhibit later that same evening at a client's insistence and thought he could get through the brief interview with Rose rather quickly.

He threaded away through the crowd at Winks. He had arrived late and was annoyed at the delay. He looked around the bar for what he could best remember about the young girl he had met six years previous. She had curly hair he remembered and a big toothy grin.

He spotted her, he thought, sitting on a stool speaking with a much older man.

As Matthew approached it was clear the guy was hitting on her. And she was put out by the unwanted attention.

"Look." Rose intoned, sounding her annoyance "Thanks, but I'm waiting for someone and I don't think dinner's such a good idea."

Matthew came up behind Rose.

"Aw come on, just a drink then…"

"I think the lady made it clear she doesn't want a drink or dinner." Matthew's voice dripped with confidence.

The man looked up. "What do you have to do with it…" and he continued his conversation with Rose.

"Well considering she's with me I think I have a lot to do with it." And he smiled and kept his piercing eyes steady on the unwanted suitor.

"Maybe another time then…" and giving Rose's arm a pat he left.

Rose turned to Matthew. She positively glowed with interest in Matthew as he took the seat next to hers.

"Thank you so much. You can be my protector any time you want." She uttered with more than a touch of esteem in her voice.

Matthew grinned. "I have to say I rather enjoyed that. Shall we eat?"

And he led Rose over to a table at the restaurant.

XX

_And yes I'm going to leave it there… and your imagination until the next chapter… don't hate me too much. (It'll be ok)_


	9. Chapter 9:New Beginning?

_Here's the next installment picking right up where we left. I am a full MM shipper but I love the idea of Rose being a fun assistant to Matthew and encouraging him to choose love over loneliness. I was finishing it today and got totally distracted by a certain (insanely fearless) actor's short film on Twitter… I can no longer think straight… _

XX

Matthew led Rose over to a table at the restaurant.

They sat down and the interview went rather quickly.

Matthew realized that Rose was more intelligent and capable than he first feared. She was also exceedingly talkative and opinionated on just about everything.

And more than a little persuasive about getting her way.

Rose took a quick sip of the vodka tonic that she insisted he buy her. Matthew at first hesitated then complied. He had to remember that she was over 20.

This was hard to recall as she slurped the vodka with a straw.

He looked around uneasily. Did it look like he was on a date with an underage drinker?

"Violet wants you take me in hand you know?" Her eyes peering at him over the rim of her cup.

Matthew eyes narrowed. He gulped, thinking "Oh God, what have I gotten myself involved in?"

"You know, like, be my Dad." And she took another sip.

Matthew involuntarily choked and in so doing spit out his own drink.

"Your Dad?" he spluttered out. Shaking his head, thinking "did he really look that old?"

Matthew's expression betrayed his crestfallen ego. A frown crossed his face. His brow furrowed.

Rose's eyes danced and her mouth smirked. "Oh Matthew. You are so easy! This is going to be fun."

His mouth twisted into a smile at the corners. It certainly would never be boring to have her as an assistant.

She leaned forward in her chair. "On a more serious note, though."

He looked suspicious.

Rose sat back and continued "I can be very serious." She said. "You'll see. I'll have your office organized in no time."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Alright so what else is there?"

"Are you a good liar?" Completely straight faced Rose watched him.

"Umm… "Spreading one arm straight out but still looking perplexed he said tongue in cheek "I can evade the truth when I have to. I'm a lawyer."

"But why?" His face scrunched in confusion. This was certainly not the way he thought this interview would be going. He'd pretty much lost control of it. But he was in for the ride.

"My mother might call you or come snooping around to see what I'm up to." Rose replied her voice rising in pitch. She nodded when he looked skeptical.

"And why would that be exactly?" Maybe this girl would be too much trouble. He scratched his head and tried to listen over the din in the restaurant.

"My mother doesn't approve of my boyfriend. She's so unfair. And so last century." Rolling her eyes on the last comment.

"He's a footballer. Born in Jamaica but now lives here full time." Rose declared vehemently. "He's going to make it big. I just know it."

"She won't give him a chance."

Matthew nodded. "Well as long as it doesn't interfere with your work, I don't have a problem with it at all." Trying to sound supportive but completely non-committal. The last thing he needed was to get involved in somebody else's love life problems.

He had enough of those of his own.

They agreed that she would start next week at Downton once she had completely moved in to the Dower House with Violet.

"You won't regret it." She smirked and called a waiter for another drink.

XX

Matthew sat in front of the lap top. He scanned the figures once more. He put his hands on top of his head and sat back. The Skype icon was open. It was after midnight and it had been another long day of juggling his new multiple roles in London and York.

But something needed to be done. And soon.

It had been over a month since he fired McGrath. He had been working the numbers trying to save as much money as possible from the estate accounts in small cuts and budgetary savings. Mrs. Patmore was not going to get her new stove for one thing.

But the bigger issue of Robert's losing investments and the liens on Crawley and Grantham houses needed more incoming money that he had to play with.

He needed to show all this to Mary. He wanted to ensure that she was home rather than at work.

Her call signal indicated she was on line and available to receive incoming messages.

He checked the time again. It would be 6 pm her time. 2 am his time.

Matthew hit the call button. He sat back. Waited.

Mary, dressing for a private donor dinner with Ryan, was fixing her earrings when she heard the signal that someone was calling her. Checking the pop up window she saw that it was Matthew. They had only recently added each other as Skype contacts.

On impulse she hit the answer as video. She bit her lower lip.

Face to face.

Matthew paused. He had to answer same for both to see each other. His finger hovered over the mouse.

Then in one hit clicked answer as video.

Mary came on the screen. His breathing shallow and intermittent as if he had been punched in the chest. "Stunning" he muttered and he gripped his fingers closer to his mouth to hide his words. She was wearing a sheer cut evening gown and was putting on her earrings as she spoke. His head swerved side to side in a feeble attempt to regroup his thoughts.

"Hi." The words choking at the back of his throat. "I … I wasn't expecting to see you…."

"Hello Matthew. I know…I thought it was a good test." She sounded equally nervous. Fiddling with the fitting at the back of her ear. "But I am afraid I really can't talk very long. We have a patron dinner tonight."

"Yes…. Yes I see." He relaxed a little into his chair.

"I've got to go in a few minutes. But we can do this again tomorrow…"

At that Matthew noticed a couple of figures in the background of Mary's town house.

Not Ryan he certainly hoped. But it became clear that they were both women.

"Say hello to Cora for me." He noticed one figure turned around and waved at the screen.

The other figure came closer to him and more in focus.

"Is that Anna?" He inquired.

"Yes." She said as she put her head around Mary's shoulder. "So good to finally see and talk with you." Anna peered closely at the computer image. Then turned around to face Mary.

The two women exchanged a mysterious look. At least that's how Matthew saw it from his end.

But having lost his nerve to start a long discussion on estate issues when it was clear Mary needed to go, he just said, "Well I'll call again in the morning. We… "He swallowed. "We do have some estate issues we need to go over." His voice turned suddenly serious and she noticed.

"I'll be here." Sounding concerned but realizing this was not the best time for that discussion.

"Ok. Then. … Uh… have a good time." Trying his best to cut the edge of jealousy seeping in his voice.

"Talk tomorrow." Mary said, ringing off. She turned to Anna who looked perplexed. Her brow partially furrowed at one corner, cocked at an angle.

"What?" Mary inquired, curious as to her friend's confused expression

"You left him?!" Anna burst out pointing a finger to the now blank screen. "He's…. he's…." Could not finish the thought as she gasped.

"Ridiculously good looking?" With a twist of her mouth and a wry sense of humor Mary completed the sentence. "I know."

She knelt down to put on her high heeled shoes. "But you've seen pictures of him surely? Haven't you… I'm sure I must have shown you something."

"I have. But that voice… and those eyes."

Trying to collecting her thoughts and be less superficially guided, Anna shook her head. It was not going to be easy to forget those eyes.

"I'm no judge of another couple's relationship. And I know you had plenty of difficulties. But from the minute he came on that screen, it was clear he's still in love with you."

Anna paused and then plunged in.

"You are going to give him a second chance, right?" Anna inquired with more vehemence than she first anticipated, finally voicing her thoughts that she's held in for years. "He clearly wants one."

"I… I don't know." Mary confessed. "I've been thinking about it." Her emotions over the past few weeks had been all over the place.

But it was becoming clear to her that apart from all the emotions surrounding her father's death, if she was being completely honest the answer would be yes. Yes she wanted Matthew. She wanted him something desperate.

She wanted him to take her in his arms. Kiss. Caress. Be naked and entwined together under the sheets.

That did not mean she was ready to give back her independence however. That had been hard won and she intended to maintain it.

Her body stiffened and she shrugged in frustration.

"He loves the idea of me. Some ideal he's concocted in his head."

She turned to Anna. "I'm no longer that person." But her answer was cracking at the seams. She began to fiddle nervously with her earrings again.

"Is he a good man?"

"Very good." She could say that clear and true.

"Then he deserves a second chance. Men like that don't come around every five minutes."

Mary had never heard Anna speak so openly, so bluntly.

"What about Ryan? He's a good man." Mary replied grasping to hold on to her argument. She was about to go out with Ryan for the evening.

"Yes." Anna replied. "I know he is. And he clearly is attracted to you. Both of them are fine, good men."

Anna gave Mary her most direct gaze.

"I don't want to marry again." Mary finally said. "Not yet anyway."

"Who said anything about marriage?" Anna replied. "I'm talking about your heart."

Mary's face ever so slightly cracked. Her chin wavered. "I don't know my own heart…" she said, almost inaudibly.

"I… I don't trust it." Mary straightened up. "Maybe I don't have one…"

She started to quiver and Anna quickly moved to give her a hug. "You are selling yourself short. I know you have a heart. A good heart. Able to help people."

She considered her next words. "And able to figure out what best will make you truly happy."

Mary gave her head a quick nod. But that was what made her nervous. She did not really understand herself.

XX

Matthew felt a world away from Mary. She had been so close and yet….

He sat at his desk in the small library. Nursing a whisky that barely stayed steady in his fingers as he tried to take a sip.

"Damn it all get a grip man!" But Mary's nearness, her stunning dress, the way her fingers caressed her ears. "Damn damn damn."

He was glad he had until morning to clear his head and get ready for the more serious talk he had to have with Mary.

And not show any of the jealousy as he took in the fact she was getting ready to go out with Ryan.

He scrunched his face and pulled his fingers across his cheeks. Shook himself into sensibility.

There was so much still to do. He pulled out some paperwork and started crunching more numbers into the spreadsheet on the lap top. He had to be fully prepared to make his arguments to Mary tomorrow.

Maybe it was good he had another day.

XX

Rose entered through the front door. She could hear murmured voices coming from the doorway to the left.

She walked into the make shift office Matthew had put together. He was at the desk shuffling some papers and talking to someone on video chat. His deep, soft chuckle at words spoken at the other end of the online discussion.

"Ah there you are!" She said walking up behind Matthew who had been oblivious to her presence.

She gave him a hug around his shoulders from the back. "My knight in shining armour!" And kissed his cheek.

Mary could not have been more surprised if the queen herself had kissed Matthew. "Who was this girl?"

Matthew turned at Rose's touch and smiled. To Mary's continued astonishment they proceeded to have a private conversation behind her back. Matthew continued to laugh and move Rose's ear near his own.

Finally he turned back to the camera. "Sorry about that. I needed to give Rose some instructions on her first day."

"Who?" Mary said, in her coldest, most distantly polite voice.

"You know. My new personal assistant. Violet's god child… or great god child or niece or something. I don't know."

"Oh really?" Coldness did not begin to express that tone.

Bit slow on the uptake, Matthew finally picked up on it. "Why?" He asked, a touch of mockery in his voice. "Jealous, maybe?"

He bit his lip. Was it too soon to challenge her in their old way of needling each other.

Mary hit it back as he anticipated.

"Well I think you need to tell her it's very unprofessional to hang on her employer like a tart at a bordello." Cutting the sarcasm with a knife.

Matthew's face broke into a broad grin and felt immediately more at ease than ever. "I will do so right away."

The video call had started so much better than either had anticipated. Matthew hated to bring up the reason for the urgency regarding this conversation.

He took a breath. "I do have something very serious, though." He pulled out the file folders next to him just to have something to do while he talked.

"Robert…. Uh... um… Robert" He could not continue. Having to tell Mary her father left so many financial issues in disarray might sound disrespectful. That he was an ingrate. The heir who had to clean up what the previous, less careful earl had left in his lap.

Matthew's eyes always did that rapid left to right shift when he was nervous. Mary saw he was doing it now.

Mary said, "Just tell me Matthew."

"The finances at Downton are not as secure as we all thought." There he said it. He looked up and flinched slightly.

"In what way?" Mary's defensiveness already apparent.

He hesitated again, but plunged in "The estate manager was embezzling fund, Crawley House and Grantham House are in arrears to mortgages your father took out which he hoped to repay through investments, that unfortunately have gone sour."

His fingers thrummed on the table with nervous energy. His eyes darted back and forth as he had trouble focusing on her, not wanting to read the potential anger in her expression.

"Are you sure?" Mary's voice, instead of anger got soft and edgy. She had wondered at her last visit at Robert's melancholic attitude and his inferences towards not being so lucky in the reaping of financial rewards as Ryan.

She rubbed her forehead as Matthew began a litany of bookkeeping entries and portfolio negativity that clearly demonstrated that the estate was in dire financial straits.

The details were slowly seeping into her brain.

"So Downton…" she started in nervously.

"Downton for right now is fine. Except for the fiddly bookkeeping of McGrath. I fired him by the way." Matthew responded hoping to allay her worst fears.

"I remember his father was a good friend to Dad…" Mary said.

"Yes well the son was just taking advantage of a good thing."

"You did the right thing, Matthew." Mary reassured him. "So the accounts can be made up."

"We'll have to take some hits on expenses. I'm still looking into options. I would like to talk with English Heritage and some other Trust organization to see about opening up the place more to the public. I know Robert hated it and limited it to like six or ten days a year. But we've got to do more than that now."

"I would like to go over those plans I think." Mary had her head bent down and reading some of the proposals he was going to submit. Matthew had scanned and emailed them to her.

"Sure. I won't do anything without your approval." Matthew closed his eyes. This was going far better than he anticipated. And the idea of Mary's continuing involvement in the estate made his heart leap. It meant that they would be in regular contact.

"The real problem is with Robert's investments and the mortgages on Crawley and Grantham Houses. Cora wanted to move in right after coming back from staying with you. I'm not sure that's a good idea. We might have to consider selling one or both of them."

Matthew wanted to get all the worst news out in the open now that the floodgates had opened and there was no point in holding back.

He could see Mary's deep intake of breath.

"I see." She said, slowly, drawing the words out still trying to make sense of it all. "I will need some time to look at everything. Maybe have some of the people at work crunch some numbers as well…"

Matthew interrupted, "well if you want Ryan to look at them, I guess…" He looked down. "Pathetic" Matthew thought to himself "… pathetic why did you open your mouth." He gripped the pen he was holding tighter.

"I didn't say that Matthew. Just because he flew in to be with me doesn't mean Ryan has any particular hold or control over my life." Saying it evenly, more directly than she intended Mary realized how correct that statement was.

She was her own woman. She could do, and be with, whomever she wanted.

Matthew gulped. He looked at her. Their eyes connected across the video monitors.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" with more guts than he thought he had.

"I don't know… what do you think it means?" Her voice cracking in anticipation of his answer.

Matthew finally got unflinchingly bold. "That we ought to see more of each other."

Pause. His eyes flickered.

Mary's mouth caught the edge of a smile. "I think perhaps you're right."

Matthew almost fell out of his chair.

XX

_That's it for now. I've got the MM celebration day ficlet to write (canon story! My first!). And I've got to finish the epilogue to That Night in Oxford. So that's my week ahead for fun writing at least.!_


	10. Chapter 10: Let's get together

_Here is the next part. We're getting closer... (fanfic upload is not letting me put the messages the way I want them... oh well)_

XX

"… the wide treeless street was raked by the sun, and the two white terraces stared at each other with the glazed tolerance of rich neighbours." This quotation seemed so apt to Matthew's mind he strolled down the streets of Notting Hill. He surreptitiously glanced into the private gardens interconnecting the crescent. Trying to tease out, as the protagonist of that novel experienced, the duplicity that lurked within the clipped hedgerows and well-ordered lives of the inhabitants of those indistinguishable facades.

It was not lost on him that seven years ago he would have been ostracized and glared at had he even attempted to enter this rarefied air. That these same types had gossiped and sniggered about his marriage to Mary in the first place. Who was he, they said behind his back, but a nobody who sought to legitimize his backdoor admission into the aristocratic circles by marrying the eldest daughter of the earl. The seventh cousin twice removed they discovered in the Burke's Peerage equivalent of a search engine's algorithm.

Shaking his head in disgust, he realized this was not the best attitude to take when he was now going to have to spend the next several hours in their stifling company.

Deliberately taking his time, he realized he was late. But he did not care.

This whole week was going to be a kind of social purgatory. Or Hell really. This cocktail gathering of superrich clients he was invited (forced) to attend at the behest of head of chambers Fainshawe. A society wedding back in York where he was to make his debut as the Earl of Grantham with the county set. The eldest daughter of Cora and Robert's god child was getting married and he was to be Cora's proxy. And then the Ripon Gun Club met on Sunday afternoon. Robert had usually attended for the two of them. But it was Downton's turn to host.

He pulled at his hair. Plucked the collar of his suit and loosened the tie that threatened to suffocate him. It was too hot.

Finally arriving at the correct number he first moved up the steps when he noticed that other guests were moving around the side of the house. The Pembridge Place private garden was open. Matthew followed through the gated entry.

It wasn't that he was nervous. He had attended plenty of these type gatherings before. And he hated all of them. He knew the lingo. He knew the social discourse. He spoke in the same received pronunciation public school voice as the other guests. He was now as successful as they were. Certainly among the corporate set he was on equal footing.

Yet he always felt a bit of a fraud. Or at least an outsider. A role he liked. A role he had relished actually. The middle class boy who had bucked the system and won.

"But now…" He thought as he took a drink from the proffered tray, no one even giving his entrance a second glance or a questioning look. "Now he was one of 'em." An aristocrat. With a title. A title better than most that would be present that day.

They were life peers. He was a hereditary peer. One that dated back to the days of the Restoration.

Most of their titles came as the result of patronage or back room deals.

Yet Matthew could not help but think at least some of the life peers present had accomplished something in their life. Their knighthoods came as the reward of charity work or long public service. His came because of the death of the man he had come to love as a father. A good man who did not deserve such an early death.

But here he was. And as the first manicured hand was greeted and the selfsame affected smile met his own Matthew began to play the game. He made back scratching promises on behalf of clients. The quid pro quos were exchanged—they wanted into clubs and social circles he now inhabited; he wanted more business and to increase his profit share.

For Matthew had his own agenda. The curry of favors, the flattering of egos, the kissing of asses… All became a means to an end. He needed money to help offset Robert's debts. To level his investments. To save Crawley House for Cora.

To help Mary's family out. To help… as he now saw all of them… his family out.

He may now be an aristocrat. But they did not own his soul. He would find his own rewards in the person that he had become.

To prove his right to manage Downton.

To stop going through the motions of a life and seize it instead.

… And the rewards… the rewards… potentially beyond his most intensely personal of dreams.

To believe in second chances.

To prove himself worthy of the love of a good woman whom he had allowed to leave his life once.

These were the reasons he found himself at these parties where he conformed to the rules and kept his mouth shut. How he to remind himself that even as the younger, more anarchic part of himself wanted to tell them where they could all put their money that instead if he played his cards right he makes things better for the people he loved.

XX

The events of the wedding were a bit of a blur in Matthew's head.

The ceremony was beautiful. The church picturesque.

The reception however… that's when things took on a surreal like quality.

He vaguely remembered the host's daughters. Being thrown at him. All of them. Even Cecily Harington the bride seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time circling him and asking if he was to have a party at Downton soon.

The other siblings…uh… he thought harder… um… Mariah and Francesca (even the names made his eyes roll back in his head)… flirted outrageously and insisted upon showing him all the best places in the gardens for private trysts.

He remembered a quick retreat to the bar.

It all became fuzzy after that.

The Harington estate adjoined Downton and Matthew decided around 10pm to walk home. He did not necessarily trust his driving and he needed the walk. The mid-summer sun still let some light to guide his way. He arrived home about forty five minutes later.

Alone. The house was eerily quiet. Mrs. Patmore had the army of cleaners in today for their scheduled polishing and dusting routine. He had kept out of her way until it was time to go to the wedding. Now they had all left hours ago.

He was still light headed and a bit giddy. Weddings did this to him. Of course many things did this to him. Too many memories of a failed life with Mary. He tried to blot it out.

Or sometimes he did really impetuous things…

Second chances…

He clicked Mary's number. Tried to work out the time difference but his head wasn't calculating things clearly.

Not thinking…

He clicked off.

Stared at the mobile.

Only fools rush in … faint heart never won… all the clichés…

He messaged instead. _**I'm thinking all sorts of things**_…. Send

XX

Mary was in a meeting. It was 4pm her time. Not the most interesting of meetings. And on a Saturday. A meeting to go over statistics from the most recent donations. They had to crunch some numbers before Monday.

Her mobile buzzed. She had meant to put it on silent.

Surreptitiously she glanced down. Matthew. She opened the message. A smile tickled across her face.

"What time is it?" She tried to think. Oh after midnight his time. Never leave Matthew alone after midnight.

The meeting was breaking up. She had to talk to a colleague. Messaging quickly_**… **__**you're making me blush…**_

Went to talk and set up the follow up meeting for Monday. The CC was expanding and new smaller branch offices were being opened in New York and London and the donors pressed to be kept informed of all the necessary expenses.

So Mary did not have a chance to see Matthew's response until she got back to the privacy of her own office.

_**Good….**_

Mary gulped for air. The same word he had said that night in Granny Violet's guest room. She still remembered his deep, resonant so inviting voice. The seductive tone he kept only for her.

It was an invitation. But to what?

Mary breath vibrated slightly. A hesitation. She then took the initiative…

"_**Thinking of…" **__she replied_

_..._

_**Touching… **__Matthew's fingers moved without thinking. They had never done anything like this._

_** embracing…**__"what was she doing…"_

**XX**

_**Caressing... **__he continued_

**_ fingertips…_**_she replied_

**XX**

_**Teasing... **__his breaths were coming short and fast  
_

_** tingling… **__her fingers hesitated only briefly before replying_

**XX**

_**Flopping… **__the memory was so clear in his mind. He flopped on the bed. Lifted his body back up to see her…_

_** sheets… **__that night, their night…_

**_XX_**

_**Undressing… **__"Oh God…did he just message that…"_

Mary's tongue slowly rubbed against her teeth. She closed her eyes.

She needed to stop… She wanted to go on… What was she doing?

_**Good night Matthew… **_

Matthew's lips bent up into a half- smile. He threw himself into the (cold) shower and put on some sweats and a t shirt and went to sleep. Sound asleep.

XX

Rose had been at Downton early to attend to some paperwork and estate accounts so that she could leave town that afternoon.

Matthew had walked in the library and before he could even sit down he heard a shriek of laughter that made him jump and put his hands to his head.

"Do that again and you're fired!" He yelled out. "Some people are trying to recover in here you know…"

Rose poked her head in "…Grump!"

And then took in his half asleep attempt at dressing. His shirt was untucked and he had no shoes on.

She tisked "Poor, poor boy… should I get you my brother's patented recipe for a hangover?"

He pursed his lips. Pulled his hair out of his face. Gave her a side eye glance.

He ignored her suggestion. He did not have a hangover. Just a headache.

"What are you even doing here? I'm up only because I've got to get ready for the gun club…" And he groaned into his hands.

"Getting some stuff done that's all." Rose replied. "But…" and she kept glancing over at the lap top open in the adjacent room.

"What is going on…?" Matthew asked looking up at her finally.

"Come see for yourself…" and she opened the door further.

They had set on creating a proper office out of one of the lesser used rooms on the first floor. And under Roses' guidance it had been transformed. The laptop was open on the oak table. The filing cabinets blended into the walls. The routers, wiring and access panels to all the electronics were cleverly disguised behind decorative covers.

Matthew walked over to the open computer screen. He was not prepared for what he saw.

It was open to the Daily Mirror and the head line ran: **Eligible Earl and the Bevy of Beauties. ****See article below with more pictures**

Matthew had absolutely no memory of these events at all.

But there he was on the internet for millions to see. He had his arms around the two daughters and was chatting with a third woman who for the life of him he could not remember the name.

The accompanying breezily written, chatty article created a whole scenario of Matthew scouting the wedding of Cecily Harington for the future countess of Grantham. That the prospect looked good for the bachelor Lord Grantham if the pictures were any indication. He could take his pick.

And it looked to all like he was doing just that.

Rose tittered. Her mouth twitched as she tried to hold in her giggles.

Matthew groaned audibly. He pulled at his facial muscles. His eyes dilated and bulged out as he scanned the image and read the article.

He thought his head was about to explode.

"Oh God…" the only words escaping his lips… over and over again as he continued to read. To be replaced by the occasional curse or epithet.

He head bent low over the keyboard. He contemplated the damage to the electronic device if he repeatedly attacked it with his skull.

It could not feel any worse that was for sure…

XX

The messages and texts came in waves:

Sybil: _**So I take it you had a good time…huh?**_

Will: _**Leave some for the rest of us…. Did you get any numbers? **_

Rose's suppressed snickers were heard every time Matthew's mobile buzzed.

He glared over at her.

"Well put it on silent, then…" Rose suggested flippantly even as the mobile buzzed again and she reverted to a fit of giggles.

She raised her eyebrows and looked up from the lap top.

"It's my punishment." He replied with sarcastic equanimity.

It was all over the internet by the afternoon. The Ripon Gun Club members seemed oblivious for which Matthew was grateful. They were there to shoot and that was a relief. And now they had come and gone. Mrs. Patmore's food went over well. His accuracy sucked. But it was over.

Rose was getting up to leave. She gave him a quick hug.

"It will be fine." She smirked slightly. "Don't take everything so seriously. You looked very handsome. You're single. There's nothing wrong with any of it."

"I know…" He looked over "…but" He was waiting for Mary. For Mary's response.

Rose pats his shoulder. "Back in a few days." She left.

He glanced at his watch. 8:30am her time. When would she look? Who would point it out to her?

He tried to get some work done. Made a few calls to set up meetings for the week. Organized his calendar.

Would she be amused? Angry? Tell him to go to hell…

They had been so intimate in their texting the night before. Things had seemed so hopeful…

When it came he jumped. The mobile was on the table. He did not pick it up. Glanced over and looked…

_**I've put in your application for this US TV show…The Bachelor...**_

Pause. Next message:

_**You never know… you might get lucky… lol **_

A smile danced at the edges of his mouth.

Matthew sunk into the chair and breathed out in sharp relief. Sarcasm was their bread and butter.

_**Only if we find a way to sneak you on the show… **_

He clicked on Mary's number.

XX  
Mary came on the line.

"Oh Matthew." Her warm, soft voice. "How did that happen?"

"I have no idea." She heard Matthew's slightly nervous quiet laugh.

"Well," Mary said, letting him off the hook. "At least you looked good. Good Lord you'd think Mariah would have the decency to wear something half respectable to her sister's wedding."

That little blonde piece had been a thorn in Mary's side more than once in her teenage years.

She tried to keep the edge of jealousy from her voice. She had no right to feel jealous. He was single. He was a bachelor.

He had every right.

And she was jealous.

Not because of any pictures. Or because she believed Matthew had any interest in the Harington sisters. No pictures from a silly girl's wedding would interfere. They had worked too hard to mend their past hurts. To come to this new understanding. This new intimacy.

She knew him. Knew that his texting of the night before meant a change in their relationship.

He took next step. To what?

The next move was hers…. Mary rubbed her forehead.

Did she know herself?

That was not why she felt jealous. She knew why she was jealous

She was jealous because they got to be with him. And she could not.

Did she want to be with him? She asked herself this over and over. And then got angry at the very idea. She had left to start her own life. Have independence away from Downton. From the old familiar things that allowed her retreat and not face her fears. That she could not make it. That she would always come back.

And she had succeeded. She had not gone back. Not until her father's unexpected stroke.

Then everything changed.

Muddled. Confused. Grief did that. It darkened your world.

But it also can clarify things.

What is important. And What is not.

Mary was not yet ready to let go of this life she had created in California. Not yet ready to give up on the prospect of new possibilities.

But obviously not ready to move on from her past either.

To move beyond Matthew.

Mary rung off with Matthew after chatting some more. They would talk more during the week after he had gone over some figures with certain bankers and investment firms. Robert's finances were getting back on track. But it was looking more and more like Grantham House in London would be sold to pay back the mortgage owed and the profits going to clear some of the outstanding debts.

They had both agreed that Crawley House needed to be kept within the family.

Mary had agreed to give up most of her share of the trust fund that she had maintained since their first marriage. Her own income would suffice. And she regarded it as part of the shedding of her past.

Matthew would use some of his own money to repay the rest of the debts and rejigger Robert's investments so that they made considerable more interest and dividends. That money would then be the core of retirement funds for both Cora and Violet.

Neither intended to tell either grandmother or mother about their involvement. If all went well when Cora returned back to the UK in a couple of weeks, she could move into Crawley House as if nothing had ever been in trouble.

Mary put down her mobile and moved towards the kitchen to put the kettle on. It was still late morning in California.

Cora came downstairs. The two women had drawn even closer in the weeks following Robert's funeral. Cora needed this time with her eldest daughter. To talk. To feel alive. To grieve and to heal.

"Mary, was that Matthew on the phone?" Cora looked over.

"Yes." Cora had actually been the one to point out the pictures from the Daily Mirror to Mary. One of her friends who had attended the wedding had FBed them to her.

"I only gave him a slight hard time about it…" Mary continued as she poured two cups of steaming hot water and let the tea bags steep.

"Well those tabloids…you know they exaggerate." Cora did not see any of these girls as real threats.

At least she would not have before Robert's death.

"But maybe it's time you two had a long talk about things…" Cora attempted. She tried not to interfere in the lives of these two stubborn people she loved. But now things had changed.

Matthew was the Earl of Grantham. He needed a Countess. Cora did not want that to be another woman. Cora knew Matthew's feelings towards Mary. She knew that he had dated and rejected most of the women he had known since the divorce.

But the pressure would mount in the county for him to choose a bride. The gossip and the rumors were just starting.

Mary looked over at her mother. "…things?" She raised an eyebrow and inquired.

"You know very well what I'm talking about. I saw you two at Downton. You're both on the edge of something you don't want to acknowledge."

"Oh Mother. We're no good for each other."

"For once in your life will you listen to me!" Cora's words came out as a hiss. Her sharp tone made Mary's head turn in astonishment.

Cora did not mean to raise her voice. But Mary's stubbornness turned quickly into obstinacy and a refusal to ever hear a clear argument except her own.

"If you don't get him, someone else will. That is for sure." Cora continued despite Mary's eye roll.

Now she really raised her eyebrows. In disgust. " Really Mother… It is not 1920. Besides, remember you tried to have me do that before. Look where it got us."

"I'm not going to be pushed into anything." Mary's cold assertion disturbed her mother.

"Especially not into Matthew's arms simply because I must nab him before Mariah Harington does." She snorted in derision.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Cora tried to maintain some calm. "But just think about it. I'll say no more." And she moved to take the cup of tea from Mary's hand.

Mary's cup threatened to spill out as her hand shook. Told herself she knew her own mind.

But did she know her heart?

XX  
Ryan had picked her up for dinner a couple of nights later.

The two had worked in close contact recently. Ryan sensed that she needed the work to keep her mind off the myriad of family issues that surrounded her father's death.

He knew she was in contact with her ex-husband over the finances of the estate. That the two were working to close some debts or something.

Mary kept it vague. It was family business she would say. He asked no further.

He understood. But Ryan fidgeted at the table.

He wanted to get some things cleared up. About their future together.

Mary enjoyed her work. Enjoyed the time they spent together. He knew that.

He wanted her to exorcise whatever ghosts of her past that kept her from accepting the future he offered.

This was going to be a risk. But his life had been based on taking risks and usually succeeding. So …

He put his hands together and looked up.

"Mary." Ryan said across the dinner table at the restaurant. "I want you to head the London opening of the CC."

She looked up abruptly. Her mouth slightly agape. "What?" Her tone clipped. "Go to London?"

"Yes." Ryan responded in even tones. "I'll come in a couple of weeks for the grand opening ceremony. But someone needs to be there to set it all up."

Mary nodded absent-mindedly.

"It's a fabulous opportunity to get some leadership experience. You'll be in charge. Take Anna. Between the two of you everything should go very smooth." He took a sip of his beer.

"…in London." She repeated out loud. Trying to have the idea sink in. Her voice hesitant, soft. As if she wasn't really listening to him.

Ryan looked over. "Why do you keep saying that? Don't you want to go?"

Mary looked up suddenly. "Of… of course I want to." She gulped and took a big sip of her wine. 'Very much." She gave a little smile.

She wanted to go a little too much as a matter of fact.

XX

_well that happened... and we'll see the consequences in this next chapter._

(quotation The Line of Beauty Alan Hollingshurst)


End file.
